


A Problem of Identity

by cptxrogers



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: Anal Fingering, Armor Kink, Art appreciation, Avengers Vol. 1 (1963), Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Early in Canon, Fluff, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Identity Porn, M/M, MODOK attacks!, Masturbation, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Pining, Porn With Plot, Secret Identity, Smut, hug n fly, putting the porn in identity porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 09:42:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 34,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16741615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cptxrogers/pseuds/cptxrogers
Summary: Steve knows he and Iron Man could be happy together if only Iron Man's obnoxious boss, Mr. Stark, would stop getting in the way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to the people who helped with the process of writing this fic: sadieb798, whenasinsilks, dawittiest, and silkspectred. I could never have got through my first time writing a long fic without them! They were super supportive and made the fic so much better. Also a shoutout to the fine folks of the 616 discord who cheered and sprinted through this monster with me.
> 
> And of course a massive thank you to my Big Bang partner, [dirigibleplumbing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirigibleplumbing/pseuds/dirigibleplumbing), who was a delight to work with and produced such wonderful art. It’s so cool to see something I wrote come to life, I’m so happy! The art is embedded into the fic so you can see it here, but do also head over to the [art page](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16740484) to give comments and kudos.
> 
> This fic is set in a loosely modernized version of the early 616 canon, but no particular comics knowledge is required to read it.

Waking up in a new world had been shocking enough, but when Steve had first forced opened his eyes that had been frozen shut, he'd been astonished to see a metal man bending over him. He'd assumed it must have been a robot of some kind, a cruel Hydra trick - he never would have imagined that this metal man would be a warm, caring person who'd befriended him instantly.

Once he'd learned just how long he'd been frozen for, Steve would have fallen quickly into hopelessness if it hadn't been for Iron Man. When he needed someone to explain confusing words but hadn't wanted to look foolish in front of the SHIELD agents, Iron Man had quietly explained without making him feel stupid. When he needed directions to get around his own beloved New York because the city had changed beyond his recognition, Iron Man had been there to lead the way. When Steve had simply needed a kind word and a friendly clap on the shoulder to make him feel like a regular soldier, Iron Man had stepped forward.

For all that he had lost, Steve quickly saw that he'd gained something remarkable too. The Avengers were an exceptional team and he still had a place where he could do some good in the world. And now he had a friend, the invincible Iron Man, who would stand by his side in this strange new century.

***

By contrast, the first time that Steve had met The Avengers' benefactor Mr. Stark, Steve had been frankly unimpressed. He'd heard from the team about the great philanthropist who funded their endeavors, and he had been excited to finally shake the hand of the man who designed the Iron Man armor and employed his friend as a bodyguard. Steve had been living in Avengers Mansion for a few weeks but every time that Mr. Stark was present, they seemed to miss each other.

"I've got a plan," Jan had cheerfully announced when Steve had bemoaned this fact to her. "We can introduce you to Mr. Stark at a press party!"

Steve's nose scrunched, betraying his uncertainty. He'd never been comfortable around the press, and the potential for embarrassment seemed high. But Jan was having none of it.

"Come on, it'll be fun," she beamed. "We haven't had a party here in forever!"

Steve opened his mouth to debate the wisdom of this plan, but Jan had already bounded off.

"Hank," she was calling, "We're going to have a party to introduce Steve to Mr. Stark. You must help me choose the balloons."

Across the room, Iron Man's shoulders were titled in amusement as he offered Steve a sympathetic shrug. He may have been new to this, but Steve had already learned that once she had an idea in her head, Jan was an unstoppable party machine.

When the day of the party arrived, Steve had strapped on his uniform and his best game face and steeled himself as if for a mission. Stepping into a ballroom full of unfamiliar people, with camera flash bulbs popping everywhere, Steve felt distinctly out of place as well as out of time. He tugged at his uniform, feeling as much like a costume as it had when he'd first put it on. Looking around at the glamorous and sophisticated party goers assembled, Steve tried not to feel too much like a fraud.

"Captain!" A firm voice carried over the room, and Steve was grateful for the distraction. He located the source of the voice: the elusive Mr. Stark, waving him over to join him at the front of the party.

Mr. Stark turned out to be strikingly handsome, with sparkling blue eyes and an impeccable mustache. He was wearing a fashionable gray suit with a silk tie and a thousand-watt smile that didn't go anywhere near his eyes. Steve found himself keeping a wary distance, the outfit reminding him somehow of the advertising men he'd met during the war. They had also been all polish and slick presentation, and they had always made Steve feel ill at ease.

Mr. Stark drew closer and clasped Steve's hand in his, leading him to the front of the room. The fact that their meeting was apparently worthy of press coverage made Steve uncomfortable, but he did understand the importance of publicity. If the team needed him to stand around shaking hands with men in suits, then that was what Steve would do.

Steve looked out across the crowd of unfamiliar faces, tuning out the reporters who were yelling questions at him and trying to smile winningly for the photographers. He had hoped to catch sight of Iron Man, as he could do with seeing a friendly face and he'd expected him to be here in his capacity as Mr. Stark's bodyguard. But there was no sign of him among the throngs, so Steve squared his shoulders and turned to his companion.

"Mr. Stark," he began politely. "It's an honor to meet you. I've heard so much about what you do for the team."

Mr. Stark seemed genuinely pleased by that. "And I've heard from Iron Man what an asset you are to the Avengers."

At the sound of his friend's name, Steve perked up. "Will Iron Man be joining us today?"

Mr. Stark gave a little laugh. "No, I gave him the day off. He's not really press event material."

Steve hummed noncommittally. He privately thought that was rather dismissive of Iron Man's considerable talents. Just because he had to hide his face, it didn't mean that he didn't deserve the same recognition as the other Avengers.

"I hope you're settling in well to the mansion," Mr. Stark continued.

"I certainly am. Thank you for letting me stay in your home, really." That, at least, Steve was sincere about. The mansion was already starting to feel like somewhere that he could belong.

Mr. Stark waved him off. "It's nothing. With New York rents these days, it's not as if you could afford your own place in Manhattan."

Mr. Stark was smiling as if that were a joke, but Steve didn't find it funny. Having grown up in poverty, it was not in his nature to accept charity, and he didn't need some rich suit rubbing his lack of cash in his face. He drew himself up to his full height and tilted his chin upwards. "Of course I'll pay market value for renting my room. I wouldn't want to _impose_." He turned on his heels and looked for a route to get away from this obnoxious man.

"Wait, Captain, that's not what I meant-" Mr. Stark called after him, but he had spotted Jan and was already making a beeline towards her. The last thing he wanted to deal with right now was the snobbery of a spoiled rich boy.

When Steve was finally able to make his escape from the press party, several hours later, he was glad to find Iron Man patrolling the corridors. "Missed you today, fella," he said with a relieved smile. "These press events were miserable in my day, and they're miserable now."

"Cap! Missed you too." Despite the suit's voice modulation, Steve could tell that he was smiling sympathetically. "But you know how it is, always so much security work to do at these public events. I heard you, ah, got into it with Mr. Stark."

Steve rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. "Uh, yeah, not my best meeting with a new boss. He made some comments which were not appreciated. But maybe I was too harsh on him. You've worked for Mr. Stark for a while, right?" Iron Man nodded. "How is he as a boss?"

Iron Man pondered for a second, then waggled his hand back and forth to indicate ambiguity. "I guess… I guess he tries to do the right thing. But I know he can be kind of a jerk."

Steve grinned, glad to have his friend's opinion back up his own impression. "Yeah, he seemed like kind of a jerk to me too. Come on then," Steve slung his arm companionably around Iron Man's shoulders. "Let's find somewhere as far away as possible from Mr. Stark and that pack of reporters."

***

In combat, it had quickly become apparent that Steve and Iron Man made a strong team. Between them they had strength, agility, and range, and they seemed to fit into each other's fighting styles like they'd been working together for years. Steve knew that he was most effective in the middle of a fight, on the ground at the heart of the action from where he could co-ordinate the team - but to reach that position, he'd often need a lift from one of the fliers. Iron Man had volunteered to carry him into battle, as he had the best protection when the firefights were intense.

On one of his first missions with the team they were called out to defend Central Park from an attack of rampaging robots: a group of around twenty of them had been spotted terrifying tourists and blaring out messages about the coming of the great intelligence. Steve rolled his eyes. Times may have changed, but villains and their ridiculous plans were the same as always.

Surveying the park from the Quinjet, Steve took in the rough, uneven ground that had been chewed up by the robots and turned to Iron Man.

"Give me a lift, buddy?" he asked.

"Whatever you need, Cap." Iron Man sounded tinny and robotic, though Steve thought he could detect a hint of a smile in his voice. "Hold on tight."

Steve wrapped his arms firmly around the cool metal of Iron Man's shoulders, Iron Man gripped him around his waist, and they jetted out into the sky together.

Steve had plenty of experience with jumping from great heights, but to really fly - this was something else. The wind whipped past his face and he would have been enjoying the experience if his focus weren't on the battle, where he noticed two robots breaking off from the main group and plowing after a terrified couple who were running and screaming.

Indicating the couple with a nod of his head, Iron Man saw where he was looking and swooped down in a graceful arc to deposit Steve carefully on the grass. There was no time to thank Iron Man for the assist, so Steve hit the ground running, throwing his shield with practiced aim at the lead robot. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of red and gold streaking upwards into the sky like a beacon that was already starting to feel like it would lead him home.

After that first mission, the two of them flying together became a habit. In battle or just for transport, whenever Steve needed a lift he partnered with Iron Man. And then one casual afternoon after a mission upriver of the Hudson, Iron Man suggested they head back to the mansion via the scenic route.

"The day is young," Iron Man waved to indicate the fine spring afternoon. "The mission's taken care of, and New York looks incredible from the air. Let's take a flight."

Steve wondered if they shouldn't get back right away to get to work on the post-mission reports, but a taking a flight with Iron Man sure did sound appealing.

Iron Man offered him a hand. "Come on, Winghead. Join me."

Even though it seemed self-indulgent, Steve couldn't deny that the offer was appealing. He loved the view from up high in the sky, and he rather enjoyed being pressed close to Iron Man too. Maybe it was strange, wanting to touch someone who was encased in armor, but Steve still found himself smiling whenever Iron Man slung an arm around his shoulder or when he held on tight to Steve as they flew together.

Steve agreed with a nod, heart already hammering in anticipation. Iron Man gently wrapped a hand around his waist, warned him to hang on tight, and zipped into the air at an almost reckless speed. Steve gasped as they shot towards the city, the banks of the river whipping past beneath them.

They followed the Hudson as it wound through rolling fields and into the sprawling mass of New York, the buildings so small beneath them. The air had a chill that nipped at his face but Steve didn't mind at all, distracted by the beauty of the city seen from the air.

The flew in from the north, banking back down to street level to speed down Fifth Avenue, before pulling back upwards and zooming towards the tops of the skyscrapers. As they passed the Empire State Building, as distinctive and imposing today as it had been back in Steve's day, Iron Man twirled them so that they corkscrewed through the air up past its tall spire.

The air was knocked from Steve's lungs and he wrapped his arms firmly around Iron Man's neck and clung on as they flew onward. Swooping into an elegant loop as they raced east, a wild grin spread across Steve's face.

As they whooshed towards the Williamsburg Bridge, Iron Man slowed till they were hovering above the steel lattice which stretched majestically from one side to the other. Steve felt a pang of nostalgia as he observed his old home from the air, the narrow streets and red brick houses of the city appearing so much more familiar from the air than they did from the ground.

Sensing his nostalgia, Iron Man gave him a gentle squeeze and Steve felt a rush of gratitude. He might have lost his old life, but he had gained an amazing new one in its place, full of wonderful sights and kind friends. He smiled as he held onto Iron Man and whispered, "Thanks, Shellhead," before they jetted off back towards home.

As they set down carefully on the grass in front of the mansion, Steve was still beaming. "That was one hell of a flight there! Way to show a guy the view!"

Iron Man gave a little hum of satisfaction. "Glad to be of service. I'm told I'm the best ride in the city."

Steve spluttered and tried to pull his mind out of the gutter, his head suddenly filled with visions of a most inappropriate kind.

"Oh my _God_ , I didn't mean it like that!" There was a burst of strange crackling from the suit's voice modulator, which Steve realized was the sound of Iron Man giggling. "Don't worry, I'm not trying to proposition you or anything. It's not the easiest task to communicate nuance in this armor."

Steve pondered that for a moment, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards in amusement. "If losing a bit of nuance is the price you pay for being able to fly like that, then I guess the trade is worth it."

Iron Man stilled for a moment, which Steve had learned meant that he was thinking about his next steps carefully. He stepped closer and reached out a hand to rest on Steve's arm.

"Cap, you should know about my identity. The reason I have to stay in the armor -"

Steve held up his hand to stop him. He certainly had wondered about who the man inside the armor was, but he understood his need for privacy in order to stay safe.

"No, you keep your secrets, Iron Man," he said, giving him a warm smile. Iron Man was his teammate and his friend, and he didn't need to know his identity to know that he could trust him. "You lead, I'll follow – that's enough!"

***

It hadn't been long until Steve bumped into Mr. Stark again. He'd been looking for Iron Man to see if he wanted to train together, but he wasn't in any of his usual spots: the library, the den, or the gym. Steve wandered into the kitchen to see if any of the other team members knew where he was, but to his surprise he found Mr. Stark bent over the coffee machine instead.

"Mr. Stark," Steve politely announced his presence. He didn't want to be rude to the man whose house he was staying in, even if he did find it odd that Stark was in the Avenger's kitchen and not his own suite.

Mr. Stark looked up and beamed at him, an expression of pure affection lighting up his features for a moment. "Cap, hi!" he said warmly, before suddenly shutting his mouth awkwardly. His face shuttered and he affected an expression of cool disinterest. "Is there something you need?"

Steve squinted, confused by the whiplash of emotions. Previously he'd thought that Mr. Stark was just a clueless suit, but now he seemed rather strange.

"Just getting some water," Steve said, heading for the fridge. He felt Mr. Stark's eyes on him as he took a bottle of cold water and he tried not to bristle under the scrutiny.

"Listen," Mr. Stark started, "about our last meeting, if I said something that made you unhappy -"

Steve waved a hand, not having any desire to rehash their last interaction and their disagreement over money. "It's nothing," he said, a bit too quickly.

Mr. Stark gave him a long look and eventually nodded. "Still, I want you to feel at home here. I hope I've made that clear."

Steve was less concerned with Mr. Stark's inconsiderate comments and more concerned about locating Iron Man for a fun afternoon. "Really, it's fine," he said. He reached out to clasp Mr. Stark on the shoulder to convey forgiveness.

But Mr. Stark flinched back, jumping out of the way of Steve's outstretched hand.

"Oh, I, er, I'm not…I don't like to touch coworkers," he said quickly, running a hand over the spot where Steve was going to put his hand.

Steve's nose wrinkled in irritation. Not only was Stark an inconsiderate rich guy, but he was too good to have a lowly soldier like Steve even touch him? Steve had heard the rumors about how Stark was out with a different lady friend every night. It seemed like he was just fine with throwing himself all over beautiful women, but would barely even make eye contact with a regular guy like Steve.

Typical snob, Steve thought unkindly as he strode off to find Iron Man.

***

When they weren't out on missions or training, Steve was delighted that Iron Man would spend down time with him too. Having the team there in combat situations was obviously vital, but Steve found it essential to his wellbeing to have people around for his off-time too. And Iron Man was just as good a friend off the battlefield as he was on it.

Having spent time eating together, seeing the sights of New York, and learning about future technology, Iron Man introduced him to the mansion's entertainment options as well. There were movies, music, radio, and games, all controlled by one little box in the living room. The possibilities were almost endless, although the team seemed to spend 95% of their time playing one game in particular: Mario Kart, or _The Grand Contest of Vehicular Mastery_ as Thor insisted on calling it.

Thor was, naturally, particularly fond of the Rainbow Road track.

On the leisurely evenings when Iron Man wasn't called away by Mr. Stark for some urgent job or other, he and Steve would sit and play for more hours than Steve would be strictly comfortable admitting to. Iron Man had thought it hilarious at first, and teased him about senior citizens and their lack of aptitude for technology, but Steve had proved to be a quicker learner than either of them expected and would routinely trounce the other members of the team, to their great annoyance.

The two of them were entering the final round of a protracted battle and Steve was lagging behind, when Iron Man's cart (he played Princess Peach, because _she's obviously the fastest, Cap, don't be so sexist, that's 40s thinking_ ) was taken out by a carefully timed blue shell and Steve clinched the win.

He flashed him a smile and punched him playfully in the shoulder, while Iron Man spluttered.

"I cannot believe... taken down so dishonorably by _Captain America_ of all people! You, Cap, are a dirty rotten cheater!" Iron Man's voice was flat through the modulator, but Steve could read the teasing through his relaxed posture, the tilt of his head, the spread of his fingers.

It felt good to be teased, to have someone who didn't put him on a pedestal or treat him like a museum artifact. Most people had so many ideas about who Captain America was that they never saw Steve Rogers. But Iron Man saw past the costume and straight to the person underneath. It was one of Steve's favorite things about his friend.

"Cheater? I'm shocked you would impugn my honor that way." Steve spun the controller on the tip of his finger with a grin. "Perhaps you're in need of more training."

"I'll have you know that I've been trained by the very best, thank you very much. Right, give me that controller, you've clearly done something to it -" he leaned over to grab the controller from Steve's finger, but Steve threw it up in the air and caught it in his other hand.

Iron Man laughed, crackly through the modulator, and made another grab for the controller. Steve tossed it in the air behind him and Iron Man darted forward, missing the controller but landing squarely on Steve, pinning him to the sofa.

"Oh," Steve huffed out a heavy breath that was not entirely due to his constricted lungs as he looked up at Iron Man, the smooth metal face inches from his own.

He could feel the cold press of metal against the outside of his thighs, the heavy weight bearing down on him in a way that was somehow both comforting and exciting. It felt strange to be in such close contact: their previous touches had been friendly claps on the shoulder, or the necessity of pressing close when they flew together. Now, suddenly, Steve was intensely aware of the man inside the armor; the body that would be warm and welcoming underneath the cool metal.

Steve had idly wondered what Iron Man might look like before, but that seemed unimportant now. The knowledge that there was _someone_ there was enough to send his mind spiraling into fantasies of soft touches and skin against skin.

The blood rushed to Steve's cheeks and to other areas as he was pinned to the cushions beneath Iron Man.

Iron Man said nothing, and for one of the first times, Steve dearly wished he could see his face. He was so used to being able to read his friend's mood from his body language, but right now Steve wanted to see if his cheeks were flushed too; if he was also breathing hard. Steve needed to know if he was searching for something that wasn't there.

The silence stretched between them for a long minute until Iron Man suddenly pushed himself up with an awkward laugh.

"All right, Cap, you won that round. But I'll get you back next time." He jolted up off the sofa and started clearing away the bottles and empty bowls which had accumulated on the coffee table.

Steve sat up slowly, his head still reeling, feeling suddenly cold from the loss of contact. He shuffled awkwardly and held a cushion in front of his lap.

"Can I, umm, help you with that?" he asked dumbly, indicating the dishes.

"No, it's fine. I'm going to call it a night. I've got to help Mr. Stark with an important project in the morning," Iron Man said stiffly.

Steve wanted to kick himself. He didn't know exactly where he'd gone wrong, but it was clear he'd made Iron Man uncomfortable. The thought gave him a pang of guilt in his chest.

"Oh. Okay then," he said, hanging his head, all the humor gone from between them. "Until next time. Good night, Iron Man."

Steve forced himself to get up and walk out of the room before he did something even more foolish, but the moment he was out of the games room he collapsed against the wall of the corridor with a sigh.

***

Steve was finally beginning to feel like he had settled into his new home.

Living with his fellow Avengers was almost like being back in the army again, what with the feeling of companionship and shared duty. Though the beds in the army had sure never been as comfortable as the luxurious cloud that he slept on now, or the kitchen as fully stocked. He especially liked to eat breakfast with his teammates, laughing with them over the cereal and juggling endless cups of coffee.

This morning, however, their jovial routine was disrupted when there was no sign of Iron Man, and instead Mr. Stark joined them for breakfast. He strolled into the kitchen, suit perfect as always, cup of coffee in hand and a newspaper tucked under his arm.

"Morning, Avengers!" he said cheerfully as he settled himself at the breakfast table. Steve regarded him warily.

When he spread his newspaper in front of him, Steve caught his eyes crinkling with amusement. Steve glanced down at the headline of the paper: _AVENGERS SAVE NEW YORK FROM ROBOT ATTACK ONCE AGAIN_.

Jan was looking at the paper too, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Just as well the fine citizens of New York have us here to fend off the robot invaders, huh Tony? With all this good press, you should really give us a raise so I can afford that Gucci coat I've had my eye on."

Mr. Stark laughed. "If I had to foot the bills for all your desired fashion purchases, Jan, you'd bankrupt Stark Industries in a week."

Jan stuck her tongue out at him. "Meanie."

"And anyway, I already spent quite enough on the clean-up of that robot incident. Do you have any idea how much it costs to sweep nuts and bolts out of an entire park?"

Steve raised his eyebrows, taken aback by the frank discussion about money. He wasn't used to anyone being so cavalier about finances as to make jokes about it. The rest of the team didn't seem to mind though.

"I've seen your stock portfolio," Hank teased back. "I think your wallet can handle the strain."

"Hey, don't forget that I have to pay all your salaries too. You don't even want to know how much I spend on Iron Man -"

Steve felt his shoulders rise at the impolite mention of his friend.

"- that bucket of bolts has cost me an arm and a leg over the years. Almost literally."

The others were laughing or busy with their breakfasts, but Steve spluttered with indignation. For all the work he did for him and the team, Mr. Stark couldn't possibly resent paying Iron Man's salary, could he?

"That 'bucket of bolts' deserves every cent he earns, and plenty more," Steve said testily.

Mr. Stark regarded him over the top of his paper. "Do you even know how much Iron Man gets paid?" he asked, a challenging look on his face. "I could be paying him thousands every month for all you know."

Steve huffed. The conversation had taken a sharp turn away from banter and into something nastier. "Whatever it is you pay him, he's worth it," Steve said sulkily. "Where is he this morning, anyway?"

Apparently Mr. Stark was not going to take the conversational olive branch that Steve offered him. Instead he doubled down on the mean jokes. "Oh, I sent him to pick up my dry cleaning. It's a good hour's round trip to the cleaners in Staten Island, but I wouldn't trust anyone else with my Armani."

Jan rolled her eyes with a smile, but Steve ground his teeth together in frustration. "Do you really think that's the best use of Iron Man's time?"

Mr. Stark smirked. "What's the point in having a bodyguard if you can't get him to run errands for you?" The needling got under Steve's skin, and he felt his body tensing up with anger. "And anyway, as you so correctly pointed out, I do pay his salary."

And that was it for Steve. The clever response and the lack of empathy from Mr. Stark was more than he could take.

"With all your money," he spat, "it's a pity that you can't buy some basic human decency."

Mr. Stark jerked back like he'd been shocked. "Cap… I was only joking. I don't really send Iron Man on errands for me. I have people for that."

He had 'people for that'. Of course he did. A rich kid like Stark had probably never washed a load of clothes in his whole pampered life.

"Perhaps you should try spending some time with Iron Man instead of sneering at his work," Steve fumed. "You might learn something from him about what's really important in life. Because it certainly isn't money, like you seem to think."

Mr. Stark blinked at him, a strange expression crossing his face. Then it was gone, his face schooled into an impassive mask.

"I'll bear that in mind in the future," he said coolly.

Then he pushed his chair out and gathered up his paper from the breakfast table. "I won't intrude any further on your breakfast, team. Good luck out there."

And with that he took his leave, Steve glaring at his retreating back.

***

The team was by now well acquainted with each other's fighting styles, and they had started to operate as a cohesive unit, able to work seamlessly in the field. But that didn't mean they could slack off from their training. Quite the opposite, in fact - team cohesion required regular training for all of them.

Steve tried not to lecture them about that, especially when Thor and Hank were always so busy and Jan would merrily roll her eyes at him, but he did seem to have rather different views from the rest of the team about the duration and regularity of training that was necessary. It was for all of their safety, he explained to them earnestly, that they should spar together often. Eventually, he broke out the most formidable weapon he'd discovered during the war: his _You've Disappointed Captain America_ face, which turned out to be just as effective at getting the Avengers to train as it had been with the Invaders.

Steve had been scheduled to spar with Jan today, but she'd had to pull out at the last moment (a very serious fashion emergency, she'd said, something about Sue Storm needing a light-reactive dress for a science gala) and she'd cheerfully informed him that she'd swapped sessions with Iron Man so Steve wouldn't miss a training partner. She had seemed a bit pleased with herself about that, now that Steve thought about it.

And Steve had been missing Iron Man. He'd tried to give him space as he had obviously made his friend uncomfortable before, so they'd only seen each other on missions. Whatever awkwardness existed between them personally, they could still get a job done. But he could admit to himself that he was feeling a pang of loneliness without his dear friend around to cheer him up at home as well as out on the field.

So today Steve was determined to be friendly, and nothing more. Just two good pals, training together like they had done plenty of times. No big deal.

Although conversation had been somewhat stilted when Iron Man had first joined him in the training room, pretty soon they had settled into a comfortable routine as they picked off flying robotic targets together.

When Steve cleared five combat drones with one particularly well-angled throw, Iron Man had told him he was doing him proud and Steve had to hide his dopey smile behind the shield as he caught it.

They'd cleared the room of the erratically moving drones in near-record time, repulsor blasts zinging through the air as Steve arced his shield in graceful curves which took down multiple targets in one swoop.

Having easily bested the training room's automated systems, they decided to spar with each other. Their contests were always close: Iron Man had the advantage of flight and of greater offensive capabilities, but Steve had athleticism and years of training on his side. Their sparring matches were an appealing workout for Steve - it was nice to fight alongside someone who could keep up with him, who could push him towards being better - but they were also a chance for him to observe Iron Man in action, to see that remarkable suit zipping through the air and performing breath-taking aerial maneuvers.

Steve worried though: Iron Man had plenty of power, but dubious form. He was sometimes sloppy in the field, taking too many risks and not planning ahead enough.

 _Even in training his combat moves were becoming predictable_ , Steve thought and he resisted the urge to shake his head as Iron Man turned in the air and swung down towards him for another low pass - exactly as he'd done earlier in their session.

Steve held his ground and angled his shield to deflect the repulsors, as he'd done before. But at the last possible moment, Iron Man nimbly spun in place and used his boot to kick at the edge of the shield Steve was holding horizontally in front of him. The angle was just right to flick the shield off balance, and for the opposite side to come up and strike Steve in the chin.

It didn't hurt, not really, but the surprise made him jump, let out a little yelp, and drop the shield.

Iron Man made a sound like static fuzz. Steve took it as an indication that Iron Man was laughing, the noise weirdly modulated by the suit.

"Sorry about that, Winghead, but I couldn't resist," Iron Man called from where he was performing a showy loop in the air. "Hope I didn't damage the merchandise."

Steve could have tried to summon up some affront on behalf of his very slightly wounded chin or his much more substantially wounded pride, but he was too busy beaming at Iron Man. Whenever he thought he couldn't be any more impressed by his teammate, Iron Man would find a way to amaze him once again.

"You got me good there, Shellhead! I should have guessed you were up to something when you pulled that same maneuver again. You're far too smart to make a rookie mistake like that!"

***

Although Steve trusted his team and knew that they could all handle themselves in a fight, he did find himself fretting over some of the missions that Iron Man was sent on for Stark Industries.

It started with collection jobs and security details in addition to his regular bodyguard duties – work that was not without risk, but manageable with care and training – but it progressed to mysterious missions that Iron Man couldn't talk about and which would take him away for days at a time.

Whenever Steve tried to voice his concerns, however, Iron Man was blasé about his own safety. When pushed, he'd simply say that he had "an important mission for Mr. Stark" and that it was part of his job. Steve tried to be understanding - heaven knows he took risks of his own when it came to missions - but it felt different when the person putting themselves in danger was someone he cared about.

Someone he cared about, as one friend cares for another. Obviously.

When he caught sight of a fresh batch of bullet holes in one of Iron Man's armored gauntlets as he sloped in after a long mission, Steve's breath caught in his throat. The thought of Iron Man facing off against gun-wielding evil doers made something twist unpleasantly in his chest; a mingling feeling of guilt that he hadn't been there to protect his friend, and worry that the next outcome could be even worse.

He decided that if Iron Man wasn't going to turn down Mr. Stark's wildly unreasonable and unsafe mission requests himself, then he was going to have to intervene.

 _I do have some standing here_ , Steve thought, _as a concerned member of the team._

With the help of Jarvis, Steve located Mr. Stark in his workshop in the basement of the mansion. That surprised him - he'd imagined that Mr. Stark wouldn't like getting his hands dirty, but there he was: surrounded by bits of machinery and with motor oil splattered across his expensive-looking shirt.

As Steve entered the workshop, he realized that it wasn't just any machinery that Mr. Stark was working on: it was Iron Man's armor. Steve felt an unreasonable pang of jealousy as he saw Mr. Stark's fingers poking and prodding at the intricate circuitry of the damaged gauntlet. He didn't like the idea of someone else touching the armor, much less taking it apart and exposing the delicate inner workings. _But_ , he reasoned, _I should be glad that someone is looking after the armor, and making sure that it was safe enough to protect the remarkable man who wears it._

Steve caught himself wondering if Mr. Stark had ever seen Iron Man outside of the armor. Surely he must have; being both his employer and the one who maintained the suit. The thought of Mr. Stark seeing Iron Man's real face and being able to lay a hand on his arm made the jealousy twist deeper in Steve's gut.

Steve announced his presence by clearing his throat, and although at first Mr. Stark looked irritated at being interrupted, his expression softened when he saw that it was Steve in front of him.

"Captain," he acknowledged, sounding just a touch wary.

"Mr. Stark, I was hoping that I could talk with you," he began respectfully, trying not to encourage further bad feelings between them. Mr. Stark nodded to indicate he should continue.

"I've reviewed the files, and I have concerns about the missions that you're sending Iron Man on. This mission planned for next week, for example, sending him to investigate the source of the robot attack on Central Park. There could be anything there - an outpost, a headquarters with automated defenses. Sending him alone without any backup seems risky, what if something goes wrong?" Steve kept his tone even, presenting this as a tactical issue. Not personal.

"It'll be fine. It's just a bit of reconnaissance, no big deal. Iron Man can handle himself," Mr. Stark brushed off his concerns.

"It's not right to ask him to take that sort of risk. It's too dangerous," Steve insisted. He couldn't get the image of bullets piercing through shiny red armor out of his head.

"That sort of risk is exactly what he's being paid for," Mr. Stark waved a hand dismissively and Steve felt a surge of anger at his lack of concern for a teammate's well-being.

"And you think that money justifies the danger you're putting him in?" Steve asked through gritted teeth. He was unpleasantly reminded of some of the senior officers he'd known in the war, the commanders who would send their men out into danger while they stayed cozy and safe back at their base.

Men who hadn't been on the field in the heat of battle could never understand what that danger felt like.

"He is my employee," Mr. Stark said evenly, "and he answers to me. The suit is my creation, and I gave him the job of piloting it. A job which he _chooses_ to do, in case you need reminding of that fact. Anything that happens with the suit is ultimately my responsibility."

The way Stark was talking, it sounded like everything that Iron Man did was up to him. As if he controlled Iron Man. Not only that, it was as if everything Iron Man did was a reflection on Stark and like he was trying to take credit for all of Iron Man's bravery.

That was unacceptable - Iron Man was his own person and he deserved to be respected as such.

"You don't get to risk Iron Man's life for your own purposes," Steve replied hotly. Mr. Stark opened his mouth to reply, but Steve puffed up with indignation. "You're jealous of him! It's too bad you couldn't have been an Avenger yourself," he said, anger oozing out of him as pettiness. "But you helped in the only way you could – with your money."

Mr. Stark looked at him, face utterly blank.

"Yes," he replied coldly, "I helped the best I could." He turned back to the machinery he had been working on. "Thank you for sharing your concerns, Captain. I'll take them under advisement."

Steve knew a dismissal when he heard one. God damn it! He was supposed to be reasoning with the man, not making things _worse!_

He let out a tense breath as he turned heel and stomped out of the workshop, wondering what it was about Mr. Stark and himself that meant they never could quite see eye to eye.

***

When it came time for Iron Man to head out on his reconnaissance mission, Steve was still worrying about his safety.

Despite his protestations, he was unable to convince Iron Man to take him along as backup – apparently Mr. Stark had been very specific that Iron Man should be taking the risk alone.

Steve sat in the Avengers' Assembly Room nursing a mug of tea and trying to pretend he wasn't obsessively monitoring every step of the mission. It didn't feel right to know that Iron Man was out there, potentially in danger, while he was sitting around at home like a useless lump. He was dimly aware that he was taking this mission more personally than he usually did, but that self-awareness didn't stop his worry. Whatever else he might be feeling, Iron Man was his best friend. Of course he would be concerned about his safety when he was sent out on a dangerous mission.

Steve shoved down an ugly resentment for Mr. Stark that kept rearing its head and tried not to snap at his teammates while waiting for an update on how the mission was going. Iron Man was a capable hero, he knew that, but he took too many risks and was cavalier about his own safety. If it came down to a choice between saving the mission or saving himself, Iron Man would choose the mission every time.

Then, to confirm Steve's worst fears, he heard the crackly automated S.O.S. signal coming through on Iron Man's frequency over the team comms. There was no voice message, just the series of high pitched beeps that meant a teammate was in trouble. With no information to contradict him, Steve's mind was filled with images of Iron Man trapped, taken prisoner, injured or worse.

Steve was on his feet instantly.

Without stopping to think, he ran to the hanger on the third floor and was firing up a Quinjet within moments. Hank called something after him as he bolted past his lab, but Steve didn't stop to listen. The exterior wall of the mansion folded away and Steve shot the jet into the sky, heading towards the signal of Iron Man's last known location.

His mind was awhirl with panic as he headed up into the clouds. He was trained enough that he was usually able to keep a handle on his emotions in times of crisis, but this felt different. The feelings of guilt about not being there to protect Iron Man mingled with a knot of regret that there was something unsaid between them. The thought of Iron Man hurt or dead without ever knowing how much he was cared for and how much he meant to Steve, was too much to process.

As he flew over a dense forest, Steve spotted the source of the distress signal clearly enough: there was a horrifying crater scarring the land, and the trees all around its edges were still aflame.

Steve dropped the jet into a dodgy landing that was almost certainly far too close to the edge of the unstable ground, and ran out towards the crater with his shield at the ready.

His heart hammered as he looked around at what could only be the wreckage of an underground base that had self-destructed. There was no sign of any survivors, and if Iron Man had been in there when the base blew...

Steve couldn't bear to think about it.

He pushed down his rising panic, and focused on scanning the area. When he caught a glint of shiny red metal from behind a tree, he broke into a full sprint.

And there, thank God, was Iron Man: propped up against the tree and clearly low on power but alive, and whole, and waving to him.

"Hi Cap," he said, sounding as unconcerned as if they'd bumped into each other at breakfast. "Thanks for coming so quick. I could really use a lift back to New York, if you're amenable."

Steve let out a breath that he hadn't realized he had been holding, and blinked back the tears of relief that were forming in the corners of his eyes. He fought back the urge to rush over and hug Iron Man close; to make sure that he really was safe and well. He gave him a wobbly smile instead and patted him genially on the shoulder.

For his part, Iron Man seemed nonplussed by his situation.

"Just a small power issue," he explained with a shrug of one shoulder. "The base was unmanned and I got the intel I needed, but I accidentally tripped the self-destruct system. The blast depowered my suit's systems, though, so I appreciate the rescue."

It didn't seem like a small issue to Steve, but he didn't want to make a fuss.

He helped Iron Man to his feet and back to the ship, not easy in the heavy armor, and found him a charging cable which fed off the jet's main power supply. After a few minutes to recharge, Iron Man seemed as cheerful as ever and insisted that he was just fine.

Steve tried to relax his white-knuckled grip on the steering yoke as he piloted them back to the mansion. _Iron Man was alright,_ he told himself, _he hadn't been caught in the explosion, there's no reason for me to have such an emotional reaction. I ought to focus on my job: to get my teammate home safely._

Still, he kept glancing over his shoulder to see whether Iron Man was okay.

For once he felt resentful of the armor. The cocoon which usually kept his dear friend safe, could also trap him too. Steve dearly wished that he could see beneath the armor to the man underneath; that he could touch him and hold his hand, to know that he was safe and well.

"You alright there, Cap?" Iron Man asked on the third occasion that Steve turned to look at him.

Steve felt a blush creeping into his cheeks - he'd thought that his attentions were going unnoticed.

"Just making sure you're okay," he said a little too quickly.

"Hmm," Iron Man sounded unconvinced, but he continued fondly, "in any case, I'm glad you're here. Thanks for the rescue, Cap. You're my hero."

Steve ducked his head to hide his dopey smile, a heady warmth blooming in his chest. "I'm glad you're here too, Shellhead."

***

As he landed the jet carefully on the roof of the mansion and Iron Man unplugged himself and walked down the ramp, Steve couldn't help himself from running out after him and catching him up in a huge hug.

"Hey big guy, what's wrong?" Iron Man sounded confused, but wrapped his arms around Steve in return as they stood on the roof overlooking the city below.

"I thought... for a moment there, I thought I'd lost you," Steve mumbled into Iron Man's shoulder, clinging on to him and unwilling to let go.

"Oh, Cap, it's okay," Iron Man soothed him, rubbing his back comfortingly. "I'm okay. I'm right here."

Iron Man rested his forehead against Steve's, cool metal pressed against his face.

Steve heaved in a few shaky breaths.

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Iron Man," he admitted. "You've given me a purpose, somewhere to belong… you gave me a home," he looked at Iron Man, seeing himself reflected in the metal faceplate. "I wanted you to know that."

"Steve." The use of his first name, so atypical for Iron Man, made him stop short. "Will you do something for me?"

"Anything," Steve said without a moment's hesitation.

"Close your eyes."

Steve did as he was asked, and felt Iron Man pulling back from his embrace. Regretfully, he let him go.

"Keep them closed," he heard Iron Man's voice through the modulation. And then in front of him there was the gentle whoosh of the clamps of the helmet releasing, the sound of the faceplate sliding up.

Steve knew that he could open his eyes, right now, and finally see for himself what Iron Man looked like under the helmet.

But he wouldn't do that.

He had promised to respect Iron Man's secret, and he had meant it. And anyway, what did it matter what Iron Man looked like? It wouldn't change how Steve felt about him. He already knew everything he needed to know about the man before him.

Steve's heart was beating faster nevertheless, knowing that Iron Man was standing there, close enough to touch. Arms reached out around his waist and Steve let himself be pulled forward until his chest was pressed against the armor. Over the usual staticky hum of the suit, he could hear the faint sound of breathing, and he could feel warm breaths puffing across his cheek.

A hand came up to gently cup the back of his head, and Steve tingled with anticipation until he felt lips meeting his own in a tentative kiss. Steve wrapped his arms around Iron Man and kissed him back enthusiastically, reveling in the feeling of the part of his lips, the flick of his tongue, the light scratching of his facial hair.

For a few glorious seconds, Steve lost himself utterly in the sensation of warmth and the heady desire of wanting and being wanted. It had been so long since he'd had the chance to experience this. He stopped to catch his breath and smiled against Iron Man's mouth, but he felt him freeze up, suddenly uncomfortable.

Iron Man pulled away and Steve tried to hold on to him. But a firm hand on his chest pushed him back, and he heard the clank of the faceplate closing.

"I'm sorry, Cap," came the familiar modulated tones. "I shouldn't have done that."

Steve opened his eyes, confused, and reached out towards him. "Wait, Iron Man -"

"I have to go. I'm sorry." And with that, Iron Man engaged his jet boots and shot off into the sky.

Steve watched him leave with a heart heavy with longing.

  



	2. Chapter 2

Steve always took his duties to the Avengers seriously, of course, but if pushed he would admit that there were times when work could be a useful emotional crutch. 

He couldn't help but feel unhappy about the way things had worked out with Iron Man, disappointed that although their attraction did seem to be mutual, Iron Man was not interested in pursuing a relationship with him. 

As Steve stewed quietly in sadness, he threw himself into his work.

He might not have been able to figure out how to win Iron Man's heart, but he could figure out why the Avengers had been facing so many unexpected threats recently. There had been the robot attack in Central Park, and then the mysterious self-destructing base which Iron Man had investigated. And just this week, Jan had reported that she and Hank had run into a squad of clumsily undercover AIM researchers working on some kind of intelligence enhancing technology at a science conference.

A few unexplained incidents were par for the course for the Avengers, but there was something about these events that tugged at Steve's attention. Why send out robots who had merely caused chaos in a public place, with no obvious goal of destruction or theft? Why go to the trouble of building an elaborate base and then abandon it and set it to self destruct? What was AIM planning?

He spread out the research papers that he'd gotten from Hank: nigh incomprehensible journal articles that the AIM scientists at the conference had been particularly interested in. One was titled _Direct Neural Stimulation Enhances Prefrontal Cortex Development_ , and had images of brains with the front portion lit up in bright colors. Another had the jaunty title _Selective Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation Inhibits Synaptic Pruning In Neural Ontogenesis_ and had images of a person hooked up to a machine with a skull cap that looked like something out of a science fiction movie.

The details of the science were a mystery to him, but the basic principle was clear: AIM was working on a way to supercharge a human brain, presumably to enhance the intellect. And Steve knew enough to understand that intelligence wasn't something that could be created from scratch; it had to be developed from inputs in the environment. So the robots could have been a field test, a way to study how new intelligences could learn from their surroundings and from each other.

What about the base then? It was possible the base was unconnected to AIM, but Steve felt in his gut that it was part of this. Iron Man had described seeing ruined labs and smashed up tanks in the base before it blew. Was it possible that they had succeeded in growing something down there? That the thing had developed an intelligence that they couldn't control? Could they have created something that… escaped?

Steve tried to imagine what kind of creature could have been created by AIM, and how they would react. The first job would be to locate the creature and contain it, surely. But if its intelligence was developed enough to escape, then it could be developed enough to evade capture. What would AIM's next steps be then? They must have invested a great deal of time and money into the creature, so letting it run loose wouldn't be an option, and destroying it would have to be a final resort.

What containment options did AIM have? Steve flicked through the files that Iron Man had been able to salvage from the base, along with their documentation on AIM's habits and weaponry. They had access to rudimentary ray guns that could stun an opponent and activate camouflaging which hid movements of individual agents. But as far as Steve could see, they lacked any kind of specialized locating equipment which would help them find their lost creature.

Steve would have to wait for more information about AIM's movements to surface before he had anything he could take to the team. He had no doubt that the other Avengers would share his concerns, but he wanted to prove to himself that he had more than just muscle to offer. He was a trained tactician, after all, and it was about time he started acting like it.

***

Steve typically slept soundly, the luxurious beds and quiet rooms of the mansion letting him rest deeply in a way he'd never been able to in the war, or even before. 

At times he found his room almost too quiet, missing the hubbub of people moving around on foot and by car in the street. It was one of the things he'd found hardest about sleeping during the war: not being part of a city, feeling disconnected from the thousands of lives that would thread amongst his own in New York.

On nights when he was feeling nostalgic, Steve would open up the two big windows in his room and let the cool air and the sounds of the city wash over him. On this particular night, Steve was pushing up the heavy sash window when a flicker of movement in the garden caught his eye. Snapping to attention, he ducked beneath the windowsill and peered out, trying to make out shapes in the darkness. The serum had enhanced his night vision, but it was still difficult to pick out details among the shadowy bushes swaying in the wind.

There — a flash of yellow, stark against the dark foliage. And there: a displaced tree branch, pushed aside with more force than the wind could generate. Steve rolled to his bedside table and grabbed his Avengers card, ready to call in the potential threat.

That was when he heard the smashing of glass from far below him and he stuck his head out of the window to see a squad of AIM tropes in yellow combat suits kicking in the window to the basement. The basement - that was where Stark's workshop was. And that was where Iron Man was usually to be found, guarding Stark while he worked late into the night.

Steve leapt to his feet and pushed the button on his card to send out an Avengers alert. By the time the alarm sounded overhead, he had already snatched up his shield and was bounding towards the staircase, ready to back up his teammate.

He was about to yell for Hank and Jan when he passed by their room and remembered that they were both out of town for a fashion week. And Thor had been called away to deal with events on Asgard, so it was just him, Iron Man, Jarvis, and Mr. Stark in the house.

He barreled down the last set of stairs into the basement and headed towards the workshop. He could hear shouting and the coordinated stomp of military boots, but muffled. When he rounded the corner he realized why: the workshop had been locked down, with thick steel doors that slid into place to block off all of the doors and windows.

"Iron Man!" Steve pounded on the door. "Mr. Stark! Are you in there?"

There was the sound of scrabbling from the other side of the door. "Cap?" Stark's voice called. "Are you okay?"

Steve rolled his eyes at the idea that he was the one in danger here. "I'm fine. Is Iron Man with you?"

A pause. "Yes, he's here too." Stark seemed distracted.

Steve settled into the voice he used to calm scared civilians. "Mr. Stark, I need you to listen to me. A group of AIM operatives are trying to break in through the basement windows. They're clearly targeting your workshop, and it won't take long before they realize you've instituted a lockdown and they try to break in from here instead. So we need to get you and Iron Man out of there now and take you someplace safe."

The sound of a heavy exhaling of breath. "I don't think we can do that, Cap." Stark sounded resigned.

"What? Why not?" Above him, Steve heard the boots retreating and moving to the front of the mansion. They were going to try to breach the front door.

"If we don't stop them here, they'll rampage through the mansion and hurt you and Jarvis. I can't risk that."

Steve heard frantic clanking which he assumed was Iron Man preparing to do something foolish.

"Stark! Iron Man! Whatever you're doing in there -"

"Don't worry," Iron Man's voice carried through the door. "I've got this."

"Iron Man!" Steve pounded on the door, the noise carrying over the sound of heavy metal footsteps was quickly retreating. "Whatever it is, let me in! Let me help you!"

But it was too late. Steve heard the computer confirm the lockdown override and there was the distant sound of one of the basement windows opening. 

"Hey, AIM losers!" Iron Man's voice was far away, he must have been leaning out of the window, and Steve couldn't get to him. "Come and get me!"

Sounds of commotion above, then the squad of boots turned away from the front door and back towards the basement window. "He's in here!" A gruff voice called. "Let's get him!"

Steve resisted the urge to punch the door in frustration. He knew that the workshop lockdown doors were reinforced steel that even he couldn't get through quickly enough. 

If Iron Man wasn't going to let him in, then he was just going to have to go the long way round.

He threw himself back up the stairs to the ground floor, and headed for the front door. On his way past the kitchen, he saw Jarvis bread knife in hand and looking like he was going to take on AIM himself if he had too. Steve motioned for him to stay down, and promised that he was on the case.

Outside the front door, Steve tucked himself into the shadow provided by the porch and observed. There were at least ten men, possibly twelve, and each one was armed with what Steve recognized from his research as their newly developed ray guns. They were all crowded around the small basement window, trying to get in as Iron Man fired off repulsor shots from down below.

There was no tactical response that was going to make quick work of this mess, so Steve threw caution to the wind and launched himself out of his hiding place and towards the nearest AIM agent. Steve had the element of surprise as well as superior strength and the guy went down like a sack of potatoes. But he was only meters from the other agents who whipped around to engage him, ray guns blasting.

Steve threw up his shield and came in low, taking out the legs of two more agents who reacted too slowly. But then he was exposed to the whole team and he heard more agents circling behind him.

"Agent Mason! Agent Honey!" an agent apparently in charge called out. "You take out Iron Man and bring me the tracking tech. The tech is the priority. Kill if required. The rest of you, on Captain America. Now!"

Steve was ready for them, but even for him six against one is pushing it. He ducked a hail of incoming ray gun fire and tried to deflect it with his shield, but someone was behind him and they got a shot off. He felt a high pressure beam slam into his kidney, burning like a brand as it singed his uniform. He swung around and threw his shield, hitting his attacker in the hand and breaking his grip on the gun with a satisfying crack.

He could hear the high pitched whine of Iron Man's repulsors, so he was still fighting, but Steve saw that one of the agents after him was already halfway through the window. "Give us the tracking technology!" the other agent yelled through the gap. "Or we will tear it from your lifeless hands!"

Steve came in close to the remaining five agents between him and the window, figuring that their ray guns would be less effective in close combat. They surged at him, but he caught one of them with an uppercut to the jaw, and lashed out with a side kick into the chest of another. The men groaned and fell to their knees. AIM might be well armed and disciplined, but they clearly weren't trained as fighters.

"Shellhead!" he yelled over the chaos. "You holding up there, buddy?"

"'M’ fine!" Iron Man called back, but Steve could hear that he was breathing heavily.

Spinning around, Steve saw that the AIM agent had made it most of the way through the window and was blasting his ray gun in the lab. Steve ran over, ducking fire from the other agents, and bent to yank the trespasser out of the window by his boots.

Except Steve had to turn his back to the others to do that, and he heard the sound of them moving into a circle around him. He managed to pull the intruder away from the lab and from Iron Man, but even as he spun to defend himself he felt a blast hit him in the chest. He staggered backwards, pain radiating in sharp spikes through his torso, and dropped to his knees.

"Captain America is down!" the AIM agent in charge called. "Finish him off!"

The remaining agents surrounded him and Steve braced himself for the boots which were swinging towards his face.

Suddenly, a tremendous crack sounded like the heavens themselves were being split open. A fork of lightning slammed into the mansion's lawn, and for a split second Steve could see the outlines of the AIM attackers frozen mid-battle, ray guns raised and converging on Iron Man.

In the moment after the lightning, spots danced in front of Steve's eyes before rapidly clearing, but the unenhanced humans nearby weren't so lucky. The attackers stumbled, blinded, and Steve could hear panicked shouting as they attempt to form a defensive formation.

It was too late for them though: with a dramatic boom, a figure with huge broad shoulders and flowing locks appeared in the sky. The attackers looked up and began to scatter in terror.

"NOW YOU SHALL FACE THE WRATH OF THE MIGHTY THOR!"

Thor's voice echoed through the night and Steve smiled with relief.

"COWARDS! COME BACK AND FIGHT ME!" 

The AIM agents were wise enough to opt out of that, however, and started fleeing towards the hole in the mansion's wall which they had blasted through to form an entrance. Thor pouted as his feet softy touched down on the grass. "It is no fun if you will not engage in combat."

He threw his hammer in a wide, arching circle, passing in front of the fleeing AIM troops to head them off. They took steps back and huddled together, trying to make themselves look small.

"Captain," Thor addressed him with a cheerful nod. "Would you care to do the honors?"

"Thor," Steve answered, a smile on his lips. "You've earned this one, buddy."

Thor cackled with delight and grabbed up a nearby hose that Jarvis had been using to water the flowerbeds. He launched himself into the air and wrapped the hose around the group of AIM agents, lashing them together so no one could escape. "To attempt to hurt my friends again would be most unwise."

The AIM agent who seemed to be in charge cowered apologetically. "Understood, Mighty Thor, we are your humble servants in this and all other things -"

"QUIET NOW. YOUR SNIVELING IS UNBECOMING."

Between Steve and Thor, it didn't take long to clear the grounds for any last stragglers, and to have the authorities come and collect the defeated AIM agents. The mansion's grounds were a mess of torn up earth and there were scorch marks along the brickwork, but at least AIM had failed to get inside. Seeing the smashed up brickwork on the basement level, however, Steve couldn't stop thinking about what might have happened if they had managed to break in.

He spotted Iron Man helping Jarvis to his feet and checking him over for injuries.

"Shellhead!" Steve's chest was heaving and his breath came in short, painful bursts. "You're okay."

Iron Man waved at him, a silly little hand motion like this was a fun training exercise. Jarvis raised an eyebrow and discreetly retreated to supervise the cleanup, leaving Iron Man to greet Steve. "I'm fine. AIM defeated, technology protected, mansion saved."

"And Mr. Stark?"

"He was, ahh, a bit shaken up by all the excitement. So I sent him off to stay in a hotel for the night. He'll be safe there."

Steve's pounding heart slowed back to a normal rate. Everyone was safe, no one had been hurt, they were all okay. But he didn't like how close a call that had been.

Iron Man was more blasé. "A good mission, all in all," he announced cheerfully.

A burst of anger flared in Steve's chest. "A _good mission_?" he repeated incredulously. "Iron Man, you could have been killed. What were you thinking, breaking the lockdown like that? You would have been safe if you'd just stayed inside."

Iron Man regarded him, the mask making him inscrutable. "I would have been fine, yes, but you wouldn't. There was no way I was letting you face an AIM squadron on your own."

That was both ever so endearing and unbelievably frustrating. "But that's my _job,"_ Steve protested. "Protecting you and everyone else in our home. I'm enhanced, I should be the one taking those risks."

Iron Man stepped closer, placing a battle-warmed hand on Steve's cheeks. "Super-solider or not, I'm never going to let you fight alone, Winghead. You protect our family, and I protect you. That's how this works."

Steve swallowed down the last of his anger, relief flooding in to take its place. He pulled Iron Man towards him and into a hug, resting his chin against the metal shoulder of the chestplate.

"A warrior's embrace!" Thor's thundering tones carried over them. "A fine celebration ritual!" That was all the warning they got before several hundred pounds of enthusiastic and godly muscle bounded over and wrapped his arms around them both, lifting them off their feet and beaming at each of them in turn.

***

Once the AIM agents had been handed over to the authorities, Jarvis was confirmed to be safe and sound, and the mansion was cleared as much as could be achieved with a broom, Steve threw himself heavily into his favorite seat in the library. It felt good to be here, surrounded by memories of friendship, reminded that this piece of sanctuary in their home had remained untouched.

Steve had this idea that kept running though his head. Thinking, of all things, about that night that Iron Man had kissed him on the roof. He'd tried to put it from his mind; sensing it was just a painful reminder of what he couldn't have: a deeper relationship, one without separation and distance. He understood why he couldn't have that, but what he couldn't understand was why Iron Man had kissed him.

The way Iron Man had been tonight - he'd thrown himself right into danger in order to protect Steve. Without a second thought, he'd put himself at risk to keep him safe. That was a tactically dubious choice, yes, but it was also undeniably touching. Iron Man cared about him, that much was abundantly clear. And he'd kissed him once, so the thought was obviously not totally foreign to him.

Steve couldn't help thinking that if he could be with Iron Man, just once, then at least he could get this itch out of his system. He'd see what Iron Man must see: that they were good together but better as friends than anything more. They could try it out and then things could go back to normal.

Just as Steve was starting to imagine what scratching that particular itch might look like, heavy footfalls in the hall startled him and he fought down a blush.

"Cap!" Iron Man's spine was slumped in a way that showed his tiredness, but his voice conveyed happiness at seeing Steve. He sat down next to him, careful not to put too much of the weight of the suit on the bouncy sofa. "That was quite a day."

Steve saw that Iron Man's hand was just a few inches from his own on the sofa cushion, and it was as if he could feel a magnetic pull towards it.

"Quite the day," he concurred. His fingers twitched anxiously.

"I'm sorry." Iron Man's voice was quiet, and Steve looked over at him curiously. "For worrying you earlier tonight. I see how much you look out for me, and it means a lot."

Steve felt the blush returning to his cheeks. He summoned his courage and reached out for Iron Man's hands, not quite brave enough to look at him directly.

When he bumped Iron Man's fingers with his own and wiggled until they were intertwined, Iron Man stiffened and Steve thought that he made a mistake. But then Iron Man exhaled slowly, and took a hold of Steve's hand, his head resting on Steve's shoulder.

Steve beamed and nestled up against him, not minding the cold of the metal in the least.

They sat for a few minutes, content to simply be in each other's company. Steve listened to the slow, metallic breaths of Iron Man and thought that this togetherness was what he had always wanted, even before he knew such a thing were possible.

He steeled himself and straightened up, turning in his seat to face Iron Man. "There's something I want to say," he finally managed.

Iron Man turned to him attentively. "Shoot."

"Iron Man," Steve began, and he could feel his heart thumping with nervous excitement. "I've been thinking about you lately. A lot. After I woke up from the ice, I didn't think I would ever find somewhere to belong, or people to care about. But then I got to know you, and the future seemed so much brighter."

Steve took a deep breath. He could do this. He knew how he felt, and he knew that Iron Man was worth risking his heart for.

"I want to be with you, Iron Man. I know your secret identity is important to you, and I respect that, but you can trust me. I would never tell anyone who you are. Will you give me the chance to show you how I feel?"

Iron Man seemed uncertain, his posture suddenly tense. "Steve, listen to me. If I took the armor off, you wouldn't like what you saw."

"That's not possible," Steve said confidently. Maybe Iron Man was scarred, or disfigured in some way, maybe that was why he felt the need to hide his face. But what did Steve care about that? "I know that you'd be beautiful to me, whatever you look like," he told him sincerely.

Iron Man's shoulders slumped. "It's... it's not like that. You don't understand -"

"Then explain it to me. Tell me, and whatever it is, we can find a way to make it work."

Iron Man reached forward and brushed a stray hair from Steve's forehead. "I'm sorry," he said, cool metallic fingers lingering at Steve's temple. "But we can't."

Steve looked at the floor, not feeling strong enough to see Iron Man's impassive face right now. "That's all right," he said, trying to push down his sorrow and humiliation and summon up his decency. "If you don't feel the same way -"

Iron Man's hand moved down to cup his cheek. "Cap, that's not what I said." Even through the modulator, his voice sounded pained. He waited until Steve lifted his eyes before continuing. "It's not that I don't have feelings for you. It's that we can't get involved." Iron Man looked down at the glowing light in the center of his chest. "I can't get involved. It's... complicated."

Steve felt himself leaning into Iron Man's touch, this point of contact between them grounding him even while he felt like his heart was bleeding out. Iron Man slid his hand down until his thumb brushed Steve's lower lip, and Steve let out a desperate moan of want.

"If you can't take off the armor, even with me, then I understand. I do. But if we can't..." he began, not sure how to express the roiling emotions inside him. He stood, pacing nervously. "Could we... would you... stay with me? Just for tonight?" Steve felt ridiculous, like he was exuding a degree of desperation that really ought to be shameful, but he had a suspicion that this might be his one and only opportunity. He was damned if he was going to lose out on his chance to be with someone he cared for because of his pride.

Iron Man froze in place for a second, like he was facing tumultuous and contradictory emotions of his own. He stood, and for a moment Steve's heart dropped at the thought that he might walk away, leave Steve here, and never come back. Steve got to his feet and braced himself for the pain.

But then he felt strong metallic arms wrapping around his waist, and Iron Man tugged him close. "Of course I'll stay, Cap. I'd do anything for you."

Steve stepped closer and put his arms around Iron Man's neck and held on tight, like he might disappear at any moment, peppering the metal faceplate with kisses. Iron Man pushed him back against the wall, and Steve felt the blood rushing under his skin everywhere the cool metal rubbed up against his body. His hands ran over metal shoulders, metal waist, the join where the chestplate met the neck, frantically trying to touch everywhere at once. Iron Man slid a thigh between his legs and Steve gasped, lifting his foot to hook it around his leg and bringing them closer together.

Steve felt dizzy, overcome with lust, panting as every move rubbed him up against Iron Man. "Wait." Iron Man's voice was as unreadable as his face and Steve froze, convinced he was about to be rejected. "I want to do this properly. Let me take you to bed."

Steve moaned in agreement and Iron Man put one hand under each of his thighs and lifted him like it was no effort at all. Steve wrapped himself around Iron Man with enthusiasm, letting himself be carried over to the bed. Finally, he thought, he could have what he had wanted so much.

***

Steve stretched out on his sheets beneath Iron Man, breathing hard, eyes heavy with desire. He felt tense and ready, and he could hear the thrumming of his pulse in his ears.

"Help me with this?" Iron Man requested, pushing the hem of his t-shirt up over his abs, cold metal fingers grazing against his skin and making him shiver.

Steve hurriedly pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside, then kicked off his underwear too and reclined naked on the bed.

Iron Man leaned over him, intently focused. "My God, you're beautiful."

Steve ducked his head, bashful at the compliment. Iron Man ran his hands over Steve's torso in a way that could only be described as reverent. "I'm going to make sure you feel good, okay?"

Iron Man leaned back to run his fingers from the tips of his toes up his legs and up to his sides, the soft touches sending a thrumming feeling straight to his cock and driving him wild.

Steve squirmed impatiently. "Iron Man, come on, please-"

"Hey," Iron Man said, poking him cheekily. "Patience is a virtue. Have you got any lube in here?"

Steve tried to think of a comeback, but his mind felt scattered and wild. He gestured towards the nightstand and watched Iron Man grab the lube from the drawer and pour thick liquid over the suit's fingers, making him swallow hard.

Iron Man finally took pity on him, and bent over to gently wrap a gauntleted hand around his hard cock. The metal felt slick and smooth against his skin, and Steve pushed forward into his grip.

"Is that alright?" Iron Man asked, and Steve nodded vigorously. Steve watched through a haze of arousal as Iron Man began ever so slowly moving his hand up and down, the feel of the delicate ribbed joints of the fingers on his cock sending spikes of sensation through his body.

"Oh," he huffed out a little sound of surprise as a metal thumb swiped over the head of his cock. "Oh, yes. That feels... _oh."_

The rapidly warming fingers of the gauntlet stroked him slowly and gently while Iron Man murmured words of praise and encouragement, the soft tones distorted into a robotic twang.

Steve reached out to run his hands over the armored chestplate, feeling the faint thrum of mechanical parts below the surface. He wrapped his arms around Iron Man's neck and clung to him as he was pumped faster. His forehead pressed against Iron Man's, the metal against his face cooling his heated cheeks.

He looked down to see his cock sliding in and out between red metallic fingers, starting to leak precome as he watched. The sight of the delicate machinery of the armor with come dribbling down it made him groan.

"You like that, huh?"

Steve blushed a little, feeling like he'd been caught out, but nodded. "Oh, yes, Iron Man, I, I want-"

"That's good. I like it too." Even through the mask, Steve could hear that Iron Man was breathing heavily as he stroked him. "God, you're so perfect like this. You're so beautiful, you should see yourself, you're like a goddamn work of art." On an upstroke, he squeezed lightly at the head of his cock and Steve moaned aloud.

"Come on, Cap, I want to see it all," Iron Man moved up to whisper in his ear. "Come for me."

Steve was already feeling so sensitive and overwhelmed that hearing that from Iron Man sent him spiraling. His hands scrabbled at the metal plates on the back of the armor, fingers digging in as his body arched and he came in long stripes.

Steve flopped back onto the mattress and hummed with satisfaction. Iron Man stroked a thumb over his cheek and Steve beamed up at him through a warm glow of pleasure. "You're amazing, Shellhead,” he murmured, “That was wonderful."

"You're pretty amazing yourself, Winghead," Iron Man replied fondly. He rose from the bed and came back with a cloth, cleaning Steve up tenderly and then wiping down the armor. Steve was expecting Iron Man to rush off; that he wouldn't want to waste more time indulging Steve's desire for physical intimacy. But to Steve's delight, Iron Man didn't seem to be in any hurry to leave.

Once they were both cleaned up, Iron Man lay down next to Steve and pulled him into a loose hug. The armor was bulky and heavy and had sharp edges poking out of it at strange angles, but Steve didn't mind a bit.

"I wish I could do the same for you. That I could make you feel good too," Steve said with a sigh, running his hands lovingly across the armored chestplate, skimming carefully and delicately over the glowing light in the center, reaching out to find a hand under the covers and twine their fingers together. "I want you to be happy."

"Oh, Cap," Iron Man sighed, wrapping himself around Steve and curling up to sleep. "I'm always happy when I'm with you."

***

Steve tried and failed not to feel disappointed when he woke the next morning to find himself alone. 

He had asked for one night, and Iron Man had given it to him. They'd been together, in a way, and Steve felt blessed to have had that. But he couldn't deny that he wanted more. He had secretly hoped that last night would change something between them; that if he showed Iron Man how much he desired him - how much he trusted him - then Iron Man might trust him back.

As he rolled over to look at the empty side of the bed next to him, Steve chastised himself for his foolish daydreaming. What had he expected? That they would spend the night together and then Iron Man would throw off his armor, share his identity, and be with him forever? That wasn't going to happen, he knew that. And yet still, he pined for the thought of waking up and having Iron Man with him. Even if he was always in the armor, even if he never saw his face, he wanted to have him there.

Steve knew that was sort of pathetic, but he'd take it. He'd take anything Iron Man would offer him, even though he wanted so much more. And yet... and yet. He was so sure that Iron Man felt the same way he did; he would swear that he could feel Iron Man's desire when they were together. It didn't feel like a one-sided crush, or like base lust. It didn't feel unrequited. When the two of them were together, it felt like everything was right with the world.

If Iron Man didn't want him in that way, Steve could have lived with it. It would have broken his heart, but he would have managed. But this? Being sure that his feelings were returned, but not being able to be together, for reasons he didn't understand? This was going to drive him out of his mind.

Regrets hanging heavily on him, Steve rolled out of bed and showered. He was still absorbed in his own thoughts when he entered the kitchen on the hunt for breakfast. He wasn't hungry, but he didn't know what else to do with himself, and there was something comforting about the routine.

Steve was startled out of his reverie when he realized that there was someone else in the kitchen already. He felt a small surge of annoyance when he saw that it was Mr. Stark, bustling around the coffee maker.

"Good morning, Captain!" Mr. Stark exclaimed, irritatingly cheerful despite the early hour.

"Morning, Mr. Stark," Steve said, attempting politeness but secretly hoping that he'd be left to mope in peace.

"Big day planned? I bet you're in demand everywhere these days. SHIELD briefings, charity work, training with the team, that sort of thing. You must have a lot going on." Apparently Steve's desire for solitude was going to go unfulfilled, as for some ungodly reason Mr. Stark was feeling chatty this morning.

"I'm keeping busy." Steve couldn't bring himself to share anything close to the truth – that outside of his duties to the team, he had very little to do, and that he was lonely, bored, and feeling almost entirely certain that he was utterly redundant in this shiny new decade. He grasped for a way to steer the conversation away from himself. "And you? What does the day hold for you?"

"Oh, the usual. Business meetings, non-profit board meetings, finance meetings. Honestly, the only thing I'm looking forward to today is upgrading Iron Man's repulsors this afternoon."

Hearing the name made Steve flinch, but he couldn't deny that he wanted the chance to see his friend again, if only to make sure that things were still okay between them. "Oh, so will Iron Man be joining you?" he tried to ask casually.

"Yep, though I doubt you'll see him. I'll be keeping him busy all day. He has a lot of responsibilities to tend to."

A stab of irritation pierced through Steve. It wasn't enough that Mr. Stark took obscene risks with Iron Man's life, now he was monopolizing his time too? Iron Man was supposed to be his bodyguard, not his lackey. With all the pressure that Mr. Stark put on Iron Man, it was a wonder that he had any time for himself at all.

A sudden realization hit Steve – this was it, this was the reason that Iron Man couldn't be in a relationship with him. It was because of Mr. Stark, how he was constantly demanding more from him, leaving no time or space for him to pursue anything that he might want for himself.

"Don't you think you ought to give him a day off once in a while?" Steve asked, trying to keep his voice level. "He works so hard. He deserves some time for himself."

"Pff," Mr. Stark barely acknowledged his words. "He could do more."

It was the same blithe dismissal of Iron Man's needs that Steve had heard from Mr. Stark before, and it made him see red.

"When will he ever be good enough for you to recognize it?" Steve barked. "What does he have to do to make you acknowledge him as a person deserving of respect? A person with wants and needs of his own?"

Mr. Stark looked taken aback at his outburst. "I didn't mean... Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disrespect him." But it seemed to Steve that Mr. Stark sneered as he said the word disrespect, as if he thought that was exactly what Iron Man deserved.

"You know, Mr. Stark, there are times when you act just like the selfish, pampered jerk that the media likes to portray you as," Steve snapped haughtily. He marched out of the kitchen, leaving Mr. Stark staring down at the cup of coffee in his hands, looking suddenly very small.


	3. Chapter 3

The mansion still bore the marks of the AIM attack earlier in the week, and it had taken a few days for Hank and Jan to return from their conference. Now that they were all together again, Steve decided it was time to restore some sense of normalcy with a team meeting.

Steve brought the meeting to order with a firm knock on the kitchen table. The team members, who had been chatting animatedly, swiveled to pay attention.

"I know there's a lot of work to be done," he began, referring to the variety of smashed windows and scorch marks that still marred the mansion's facade, "but before we begin discussing that, we need to asses our tactical situation."

Hank raised an eyebrow. "It seems to me that our tactical situation is that you and Iron Man got your asses handed to you by a bunch of AIM goons, and Thor had to sweep in any save you."

Jan elbowed Hank but he grinned teasingly. Steve didn't love being framed in those terms, but he had to admit that Hank wasn't wrong.

"Ahem. Well. I suppose that's one way of putting it," Iron Man sounded like he might actually be blushing.

"What we need to focus on," Steve brought them back to his original point, "is what motivated AIM to attack in the first place. What were they looking for?"

"There's plenty of valuable technology in the- in Mr. Stark's workshop," Iron Man said. "But they weren't on a haphazard smash-and-grab. They knew exactly what they were looking for, and they weren't interested in anything else."

"The tracking tech?" Steve asked, remembering the orders he'd heard the AIM agent in charge give.

Iron Man nodded. "Mr. Stark has been developing a satellite tracker which can fix onto specific energy signatures and track them over the globe. It's supposed to assist search and rescue operations in remote regions, and the prototype is nearly complete. I dread to think what AIM want with it but it'll be worth a lot on the black market, I'm sure."

Hank seemed interested in that, but Jan and Thor had quickly tuned out and were having a whispered conversation that Steve suspected focused on hair care tips. Steve turned his attention to the matter at hand.

This newly developed tracking technology was exactly what AIM would need to locate their wayward creature, and anything that benefited AIM could only harm the Avengers in the long run. It was time to bring the team in on his suspicions about AIM's recent activities.

He laid out his theory that AIM had been developing intelligence enhancing technologies and that they had created some kind of hyper intelligent being which had then escaped. AIM's desire in attacking the mansion had been to steal the tracking technology not only to sell it but also to find their lost creature. The team nodded along, and they didn't seem to think that he was crazy or that his hunches were wild. Jan even patted his hand supportively when he explained that he hadn't wanted to bother them with this before he was sure.

"So what do we do now?" He left the question open for the team, wanting their input. "We fought off AIM this time, but they could be back and there could be an unknown intelligent weapon out there."

Iron Man sat forward. "I can deal with the AIM threat, but I'll need a few days away from Avengers business. In a few weeks, Mr. Stark is presenting the tracking technology at a scientific conference, and I'll be performing bodyguard duty. If anyone expresses an unhealthy interest in the technology, I'll be there to apprehend them."

"We'll come with you," Steve offered firmly.

"Don't worry about it - it's my problem to deal with. And anyway, even if AIM does show up, I can handle them."

Whatever his personal reservations about Mr. Stark, Steve knew it was his job to protect civilians from dangers just like this. And most of all, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop worrying about Iron Man, who would be putting himself right in AIM's crosshairs when he went to protect his employer.

"We're coming with you," Steve said. "It might be your job to protect Mr. Stark but it's our job to protect you."

Iron Man looked like he was considering arguing but Jan flicked his helmet and pulled her don't-even-think-about-it face.

"Fine," Iron Man exhaled. "But don't complain to me if you find scientific conferences dull."

***

One of Steve's favorite things about Iron Man - admittedly, he had a long list of his favorite things about Iron Man, but still - was how he paid attention to the small things. 

When the city was in danger and the Avengers had to clear civilians from the area, Iron Man would get down on his knees so that he could talk to the children at their eye level and make sure that they weren't scared. When Hank was struggling with a science problem, Iron Man would notice and Steve would see him wordlessly place a mug of coffee on his desk. On the days when Jan had a big photoshoot and she couldn't get her hair just how she wanted it, Iron Man would make a point to tell her how great she looked.

So Steve shouldn't really have been surprised that Iron Man paid attention to the little things when it came to him too. On one occasion as they'd made their way home down Fifth Avenue to the mansion, Steve had made an offhand comment to Iron Man about how much he loved the Museum of Modern Art, and how he had tried to get tickets for their latest Monet exhibition but with no luck – the rest of the city being apparently as excited to see the exhibition as he was.

Then, as if by magic, a few days later Steve came back to his room to find a postcard of Monet's water lilies slipped under his door. "Captain," it read on the other side, in a scratchy hand, "I heard you were pining for a view of the lilies. Call this number and tell them I sent you. – T.S." 

A business card of the MoMA's exhibition organizer was attached, and Steve stared bewildered for a second before he realized that T.S. must be Mr. Stark. He was touched to think that Iron Man had remembered his comment, even more so that he had asked Mr. Stark to help him out. It gave him a warm glow to think of his friend doing that for him.

It made Steve reconsider his opinion of Mr. Stark too, that he would take the time and use his connections to treat Steve to a trip out. It spoke of a degree of consideration and selflessness that he hadn't imagined the man possessed. Perhaps Steve had misjudged him… but then again, considering the callous way that he had heard Mr. Stark talk about Iron Man, perhaps not.

When he called the number on the card, he was informed by a highly professional-sounding woman that not only was he invited to see the exhibition, but that "it would be our pleasure to open the museum after hours for any guests of Mr. Stark." Steve was astonished. He'd known that Mr. Stark had money and influence, but he hadn't imagined that he held any sway in the art world. Somehow he couldn't imagine Mr. Stark taking an interest in paintings.

But he knew who would surely appreciate the chance for a night away from the demands of Avengers life, and that was Iron Man. It wasn't easy for him to go out in public, conspicuous as he was in the armor. But an after hours exhibition was the perfect opportunity to get him out of the mansion and away from his responsibilities for a few hours. After he had gone to the effort of setting this up for Steve, the least Steve could do was share the experience with him. And if Steve got a little thrill of excitement from the idea of going out on the town with his Shellhead ( _almost like a date_ , his mind helpfully supplied) then that was no one's business but his own.

Iron Man had demurred when Steve first asked him to come to the museum, but Steve was not above deploying an artfully plaintive look or two to get him to agree to come along.

They arrived at the museum and discovered that they were the only people in attendance that evening and that they would have the museum to themselves. Iron Man confessed with a giggle that he was hopeless when it came to art, but he listened attentively while they walked around the exhibition and Steve chatted away about the clever use of brush strokes and the way the impressionist style reflected the changing values of the new century, and he leaned in with interest when Steve pointed out the details of the lighting that he thought were most interesting.

As they wandered the quiet halls of the museum discussing the relative merits of nature versus technology as inspiration for creativity, Steve reached out and grabbed Iron Man's hand so he could excitedly drag him into the next room full of paintings. He fought down a blush when he realized what he'd done, but Iron Man didn't seem to mind. The two of them stared up at the huge and hauntingly beautiful _Reflections of Clouds on the Water-Lily Pond_ still hand-in-hand.

***

The next day, Steve tracked down Mr. Stark in his office to relay his gratitude for the trip to the museum. 

It made a nice change to be seeing him for a pleasant reason for once, and when Steve popped his head around the door, Mr. Stark smiled brightly like he really was pleased to see him. Mr. Stark had a rather lovely smile, actually, when there weren't any photographers around. Unlike his beaming press smile, the smile he turned on Steve now was softer and warmer, and Steve felt like he was finally seeing more of the man beneath the expensive suits.

"Thank you, Mr. Stark," Steve said, and meant it. "For organizing for Iron Man and me to visit the Monet exhibition. It really was quite a wonderful experience, getting to see the museum at night."

Mr. Stark gave him a small smile. "You're welcome, Steve. I know we've had our disagreements, but I wanted to try to patch things up. I do want you to be happy."

Steve was brought up short. Was Mr. Stark saying that he wanted Steve and Iron Man to be happy together? That didn't tally with his earlier impression. "Really? You want us to be happy?"

"Us?" Mr. Stark repeated, looking confused. "I meant you personally, Steve. I want you to be happy here in your new life."

"And what if my happiness includes being with Iron Man?" Steve raised his chin a fraction.

Mr. Stark looked taken aback, and opened and closed his mouth. "I can see that you care about him," he said, choosing his words carefully, "But you should know, I've known Iron Man for a lot longer than you have. He's... he's not a good person. If you knew him like I do, you'd keep your distance."

Steve was deeply affronted. Of all the things Mr. Stark could have said to him, insulting Iron Man was the quickest way to infuriate him. "Not a good person?" Steve snapped. "How could you say such a thing? Clearly you don't know him at all."

"And just how well do you think you know him, Captain? Have you ever even seen him out of the armor?"

Steve grit his teeth. He had suspected that Mr. Stark knew about Iron Man's secret identity - it would be necessary, presumably, as his employer - but he hadn't thought that Stark would use this information against Steve. Because it wasn't like Iron Man's identity mattered to him, not really. He'd meant it when he said that he could keep his secrets. But the thought that Mr. Stark knew Iron Man in a way that Steve hadn't, that he had accessto him in a way that Steve didn't - that hurt.

"I know him well enough to be certain that he's worthy of my trust and my friendship," he said, ignoring his own insecurities. "He's proven himself to me and to the Avengers more times than I can count."

"Oh really? You think that helping out in the occasional fight makes him trustworthy? He's not someone you can rely on, Steve. There's a part of his life that you'll never see. The suit is what matters, not the man who pilots it. He's just filler."

Steve was incensed. "How dare you?" he boomed, loud enough that Mr. Stark actually winced. "Iron Man is my best friend! He's saved me and the team more times than I can count! He throws himself into danger without a second's thought for himself, he makes time for everyone no matter how small or unimportant they are, he _literally_ shields people from danger with his own body! The suit would be _nothing_ without the person inside it! He's kind and compassionate and funny and brave, and I'd give anything to be with someone as good as him!"

Steve was a little shocked to hear the strength of emotion pouring out of his own mouth, like he hadn't realized how deeply he'd felt until it was challenged. But he did want to be with Iron Man, he knew that now, and it didn't matter whether his feelings were returned or not. He wasn't going to stand here and listen to Mr. Stark talk that way about someone he cared for.

"If you can't see past your own self-centered perspective to realize what a wonderful person he is, then maybe it's you who doesn't deserve him," Steve snapped, storming out of the room and leaving Mr. Stark gawping at his retreating figure.

***

Steve was determined not to let Stark's poor view of Iron Man affect their friendship, or let himself be dissuaded from hoping for something more. Whatever his employer might have to say about it, Iron Man was still the person that Steve wanted to be with and he wouldn't be put off by some petty snarling.

Still, Iron Man did seem a little more reserved around Steve than he had been before: not so inclined to join him for lunch dates and always hurrying off after team events. He was busy, he explained apologetically, but Steve wondered if Stark wasn't overworking him deliberately to keep him and Steve apart. Maybe Steve was being paranoid, but it sure seemed suspicious that he'd fought with Iron Man's boss and now Iron Man suddenly had to work all of the time.

After days of moping, of gazing across the room at Iron Man during meetings, and of heady dreams which found Steve waking up panting and hard each morning, he decided that he had had enough. So he came up with a plan. A tactical approach. He was, after all, a man of action.

He waited until the next team meeting, the usual important but tedious affair of briefings and updates, and then he made his move. As Iron Man was heading out of the command center, Steve grabbed his wrist and held him back.

"Cap?" Iron Man seemed surprised. "Is everything okay?"

Steve smiled, encouraged him to relax. He knew Iron Man was a worrier. "Everything's fine. I was hoping we could talk, though."

"Of course, Winghead. Anything for you." Steve blushed at that. "What's up?"

Steve was still holding onto Iron Man's wrist. He looked down at where his pink skin contrasted against the deep red of Iron Man's gauntlets and felt his pulse picking up.

"I've been thinking," he began, and he had to force himself to raise his voice and not to mumble, "about, you know, last time. That night when we were, ah, together."

Iron Man went very still. Steve thought that even through the suit's air filters, he could hear his friend breathing hard.

Steve pushed on. "Because I know that was supposed to be a one-time arrangement. And that's fine, it really is, if that's what you want."

Iron Man's head tipped to one side like he was struggling with what to say. Steve felt suddenly self-conscious about holding onto his wrist, like he was exerting too much force. He let go but didn't step backwards.

"But if you ever wanted to, you know, try again…" Steve could feel the weight of Iron Man's gaze on him, despite the helmet in the way. "… then that would be nice?"

_Nice? Nice?? What on Earth had possessed me to say that? God, no wonder everyone thinks I'm out of touch with modern society, when I can't even talk about sex without using phrases like "nice" -_

Steve was snapped out of his self recrimination when Iron Man put a strong metallic arm around his waist and tugged him close, his heated skin pressed up against cool metal. 

"Steve," Iron Man breathed against his ear, and it was rough and full of want.

"I don't mean to pressure you," Steve said, trying to keep his composure while his mind was awhirl with Iron Man so close to him, "but I want you, and I know I should reign it in, but whenever you're around me I just feel so- so much."

Iron Man brought a hand up to cup his cheek. Through the eye slits in his helmet, Steve could just about make out pretty blue eyes that were wide with emotion. "Cap," he said, sounding breathless.

"I'll go?" Steve offered, feeling stupid. "If I'm reading this wrong, I'll just go and we can never speak of this again." And he's turning to leave, sure that he's already pushed too much, and he'll be lucky if Iron Man even wants to be friends with him after this-

But then Iron Man was pulling him back, running his hands over his shoulders and chest and around his back, grasping for him with an air of desperation. "Don't go," he said, and it sounded almost like pleading. "Don't go anywhere without me. Anywhere you want, name the time and the place, I'll be there."

A bubble of joy welled up deep in Steve's chest, excitement and warmth bursting through him. Now was the time to be bold. He stepped even closer until they were pressed chest to chest. "How about right now?" he asked, and his voice came out low and rough. "My room?"

"Yes, anything, anywhere," Iron Man said, sounding a little dazed.

Steve brazenly took his hand and lead him out of the conference room and upstairs to his bedroom. Iron Man was silent and Steve fretted over whether he was regretting his choices.

He decided not to give Iron Man any more time to get lost in his own head. Once they were over the threshold to his room, Steve kicked the door shut and pushed Iron Man against it. Iron Man groaned a little when he did, so he planted a kiss firmly on the mouthslit of the faceplate.

"Cap," Iron Man breathed. "Are you sure about this?"

In answer he took Iron Man's hand and brought it up to his mouth. He wrapped his lips around one of the metal fingers and he heard a sharp intake of breath from Iron Man as he sucked at it, the metal tangy against his tongue.

"I'm very sure," Steve said decisively. "I don't care about your identity or your secrets or what we can or can't do in the future. Right now, I want you," he tugged Iron Man towards him, "and you want me."

Iron Man let himself be led across the room, strangely passive. Though he did run run his hands over Steve's shoulders, metal fingers digging in through the fabric of his shirt.

Steve backed up until he was against the side of the bed, then sat down and lounged comfortably. "Come on, Shellhead," he said warmly, offering a hand to Iron Man with a smile, "Join me."

He felt the last of Iron Man's uncertainty drift away as he practically pounced on Steve, the heavy weight of the armor pressing down on him and metal hands touching everywhere on his body.

Steve wriggled to make some space and stripped off his shirt and his pants, Iron Man watching him intently.

"God, I wish I could touch you," Iron Man said, reaching out to run his fingers across Steve's bare chest.

"Actually, I had an idea about that," Steve said with a smirk, pulling a long piece of dark fabric from a drawer and bringing it up to his eyes. "Blindfold me. That way you can take off the armor but I won't be able to see who you are."

Iron Man breathed heavily. "Geez, Cap, you're really something. Have you been planning this?"

Steve grinned, feeling a little smug. He wasn't going to deny that he'd been wanting this for a long time. "I've given this a lot of thought," he said with a lascivious tilt of an eyebrow. He reached out and handed the strip of fabric to Iron Man. "I want to feel you. I don't need to know your identity to know that I want you."

Iron Man took the fabric and placed a hand on Steve's cheek. "You are a constant source of amazement to me, you know that?"

Steve blushed, and Iron Man took his hand. "There's just one thing," Iron Man began, sounding a little uncertain. "If we do this, I can't speak during it. I need to protect my identity, and even the sound of my voice could give me away."

Steve puzzled over that, wondering who Iron Man could possibly be that even the sound of his voice would be recognizable. But then he deliberately pushed that thought aside. He'd agreed to respect Iron Man's secret identity, and if this was the price of being with his fella, then it was one he'd very willingly pay. "Okay," he nodded. Whatever it took for them to be together.

"Don't you worry," Iron Man said, leaning in close to wrap the blindfold over his eyes. The material was soft and warm against his heated skin, and it blocked out all the light so there was nothing but blackness in front of his eyes. He felt Iron Man tie it carefully at the back of his head. "I was planning on finding other ways to occupy my mouth anyway."

Steve moaned at that, anticipation building inside of him as he heard the sounds of the clamps on the armor disengaging and pieces being removed. He could see only darkness, but he imagined he could feel the heat radiating off the man in front of him as he stripped out of the suit.

And then finally, he felt warm hands rubbing along his thighs, feather-light touches across his chest, a single finger running down his abs. Every sense other than his sight felt heightened and each touch came as a surprise, making him shiver all over.

A hand slipped into his and squeezed, its meaning clear – are you okay? "Don't stop," he breathed out. "You feel so good."

The hand in his squeezed once more and he felt finger tips running up his arm, down his chest, down towards his heavy cock. He wanted to push upwards, to demand more contact, but he didn't want to seem greedy. Then he felt wet heat licking at his cock through his underwear and his hips bucked upwards entirely without his control.

Steve felt like he was fragmenting, like everything was too much; they'd only just got started and yet his head was swimming. But then gentle hands touched his hips, holding him in place, reassuring him. He felt Iron Man's breath close to his cock, the warmth sending tingles through his body. As the hands went to tug down his underwear, he squirmed to try to get them off faster and got a playful smack for his efforts.

When lips wrapped around his exposed cock, all the air was pressed from his lungs. He felt a tongue flicking at the underside of his cock and a hand gently massaging his balls. The sensations were immediate, pressing, the lack of visual input only highlighting the feelings. "Iron Man," he gasped. "Oh, Iron Man."

He heard a satisfied hum from below him and felt the vibrations down his length. Lips and tongue teased at him, working him into a frenzy. He grasped at the sheets as the sensation became almost unbearable, then twined his hands into the headboard and held on tight.

Iron Man opened his mouth wider, swallowed him down deeper, seemingly intent on fitting as much of Steve as he possibly could into his mouth. It was a rush even greater than the physical gratification, knowing that Iron Man wanted him, wanted everything he had to give.

He couldn't have said how long it went on for, the slick wet heat around his cock and the feeling of Iron Man's strong fingers digging into his thighs. At some point Iron Man had gone from clinging on to him to rubbing his hands down Steve's thighs, around his knees, down his calves, along the tops of his feet. Every square inch of him was explored, mapped, attended to and lovingly caressed. Even through the fog of arousal, Steve could feel Iron Man's intention towards him, feel the desire to calm him and soothe him, to know him in a way more intimate than sex.

His perception of time blurred and his focus narrowed to the feeling of the mouth encompassing him. He writhed on the bed as sensations bombarded his body, pushing him closer to the edge. After what could have been minutes or hours, with waves of pleasure radiating across his body, he could feel his orgasm approaching. "I'm going to, oh, Iron Man, I'm going to -"

He expected to feel the mouth pull away at the warning. But he was swallowed even deeper, feeling the soft press of a nose at his pubic hair as his cock was enveloped in the wet heat. Everything in his body tensed before exploding, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through his body. He came with a cry, feeling lips and tongue working him through the crests, pulling off gently as he finished.

Steve sprawled out across the bed, luxuriating in the feeling of bliss. He could feel Iron Man perched on the side of the bed, close by but not touching him. He flopped an arm out and flapped ineffectually at his torso, hoping to persuade him into cuddles.

"C'mon, Shellhead, c’mere," he mumbled groggily.

A hand met his, fingers intertwining together. Steve tugged and Iron Man wobbled over before squishing on top of him. He landed inelegantly with an "oof" and an elbow in Steve's ribs, and Steve could only laugh.

Still blindfolded, he did his best to roll them until Iron Man was above him, kneeling over his chest. He tried to reach up for his face, but Iron Man ducked away. Worrying that he was intruding on Iron Man's identity, Steve let his hand drop.

His worry must have shown on his face, because Iron Man petted his hand, his chest, brushed the back of a finger down his cheek. Steve smiled and relaxed into the touches, confident that he didn't need to see a face to feel this affection.

Steve grabbed Iron Man's thigh and squeezed fondly, feeling the thick muscle quiver beneath his hand. He should have expected him to be strong; he'd have to be to pilot the heavy armor. But still, the viscerality of muscle under his fingers was a surprise and a delight.

The weight above him shifted and Steve heard the distinctive slapping sound of skin on skin, accompanied by soft moans that sent spikes of desire even though his sated comfort. He gasped as he heard a ragged groan and felt a cool spurt of liquid hit his stomach.

When he felt the figure begin to stand, he reached out blindly and grabbed at him. "Wait," he said breathily. "Before you put the suit back on... kiss me."

He felt a soft kiss placed on the tips of his fingers, then he was pushed back onto the mattress and smooth lips were pressed to his own, facial hair tickling lightly at his skin. Steve reached up to cup the back of the other man's head, fingers carding through soft hair with a slight curl. He kissed deeply, tasting himself on his tongue and flushing at the intimacy of it.

"Thank you," he whispered. "for sharing that with me." He felt a final kiss pressed to the back of his knuckles, then the weight on the bed lifted and he heard the sounds of the armor being reassembled.

Cool metallic fingers undid the knot of the blindfold, and as it fell from his eyes Steve smiled up at the shiny faceplate in front of him.

"I should be the one thanking you, Cap," Iron Man said, and Steve could tell that he was smiling too. "You really are something special."


	4. Chapter 4

For all that being with Iron Man was wonderful and Steve was walking around on a cloud, tensions between him and Stark were still high. 

Jan, ever insightful, had cottoned on to the fact that there was an uneasy relationship between them and she had sat him down to explain politely but firmly that he ought to take more time to get to know their benefactor. 

"He's a wonderful person!" she insisted. "He's a good friend and a great help to the team. I think you'd like him if you could only see past the flashy exterior."

Steve's mouth twisted into a grimace. He valued Jan's insight and trusted her judgment, but he really wasn't sure he was ready to describe lofty Mr. Stark as 'wonderful'. Still, after Hank had chimed in about how Stark had helped him with his science projects, and Thor told him about how they had built an orphanage for underprivileged children together, Steve had to admit that perhaps he had been a touch too judgmental. He supposed that everyone deserved a second chance, even Mr. Stark.

Jan worked her social magic and within the week, Mr. Stark arrived for an unexpected visit to one of their team basketball games.

"Hello, Avengers. I heard you're a man down, so perhaps I could join you for a game?"

Steve squinted. Basketball didn't seem like something Mr. Stark would be interested in, but he shucked off his jacket and tie and rolled up his sleeves while showing no concern for messing up his fancy clothes.

"You picked the perfect day," Jan said, her voice full of pep. "I'm so happy you could join us!" She turned to the team with a tone that brooked no argument. "Iron Man's away today, so Mr. Stark can fill in for him."

Steve wasn't convinced that anyone could ever fill in sufficiently for Iron Man, but he supposed he could appreciate the effort being made. He was assigned onto a team with Stark and Jan, while Hank, Bruce and Thor played for the other team. Steve chuckled to himself as he imagined the potential carnage: they had a 'no powers' rule when playing, but Thor was still struggling with the idea of deliberately limiting his strength.

Except it turned out that Mr. Stark was a good deal more agile than his job as a desk jockey would suggest, and he had a good sense of teamwork. He had a mean competitive streak but didn't showboat like Steve might have imagined, instead keeping an eye on his teammates and passing to them when they were better situated than he was. He even smiled while they played, some of the uptight playboy exterior cracking to reveal a real person beneath.

Steve was beginning to warm up to him when Stark passed an assist to him at just the right moment for him to sneak past Hank and to land a solid shot through the hoop. He grinned and Mr. Stark offered him a high five.

"I guess we make a pretty good team, huh, Mr. Stark?" Steve offered, feeling conciliatory.

Mr. Stark brushed a sweaty stand of hair from his forehead and stretched. He certainly did look good when he let himself relax, Steve thought to himself, feeling a slight blush cross his cheeks that had nothing to do with physical exertion.

But then Stark had to go and open his mouth. "We sure do, Winghead."

Steve froze and felt his teeth grinding in annoyance. There was only one person who was allowed to call him that, and it certainly wasn't Stark.

It figured that a guy so entitled about everything in life would feel entitled to Steve's affections as well.

***

In the days after their second encounter, Steve felt the change in Iron Man's behavior. 

There were the furtive glances they shared over the breakfast table, the moments when they were gearing up for a mission and Iron Man's hand would slip into his, a tendency on both their parts to lean into hugs and to throw an arm around the other's shoulders even more than usual.

And yet it was frustratingly difficult to get any time alone with him. In between training with the team, helping with maintenance and upgrades on the suit, and endless jobs for Mr. Stark, Iron Man seemed to hardly have a moment to spare.

When the day of Stark's big scientific conference arrived, the team was ready. Iron Man escorted Stark to the event and the others followed close behind, watching for any sign of AIM infiltration.

Thor guarded the perimeter of the event while Steve, Jan and Hank hid their costumes beneath civilian clothes and tried to blend in with the audience of scientists and academics. As might have been expected, Jan and Hank fared rather better at this than Steve did. They chatted comfortably with the crowd, keeping up with conversations about the latest scientific research while Steve mumbled along awkwardly. Thankfully, it wasn't long before Mr. Stark's keynote speech began, and Steve took his seat in the audience.

Watching Mr. Stark on stage, Steve had the chance to observe the man in his natural habitat. He sure was smart, there was no doubt about that, and he had a passion in his voice when he talked about how his latest developments in tracking technology could be used for finding lost mountain climbers and evacuating earthquake survivors.

Steve had never seen this part of him before; their benefactor had always seemed distant and remote. But now Mr. Stark was so animated, his blue eyes twinkling and his elegant hands gesturing enthusiastically. His intensity was infectious, and Steve found himself thinking that he was rather compelling, in his way. Not to mention, he wasn't exactly hard on the eyes.

Steve was beginning to realize that there was a whole other side to Mr. Stark which he hadn't been paying attention to.

He was dragged away from his thoughts by the sound of shattering glass, as a window imploded and smoke poured into the room in plumes. People started screaming and running, and Steve could make out a huge wobbling shape flying through the smashed window. He sprang to his feet and grabbed up his shield from under his chair, expecting to see AIM beekeepers swarming the hall.

Instead, he looked up to see an enormous, grotesquely swollen head sitting above tiny spindly arms and legs, all contained in a golden exoskeleton which was levitating a few feet off the ground. 

"Flee before MODOK!" the creature shouted hoarsely. "You will hand over the Stark tracking technology, and then you will be vaporized!"

Steve steeled himself against the horror that roiled in his gut. This must be it: the result of AIM's dastardly experiments into enhanced intelligence. The beast calling himself MODOK bobbed in the air before him, and there was no time to gawp.

"I don't think so, mister," Steve called out as he swung into action, positioning himself between MODOK and the retreating crowd and raising his shield. He could hear Hank directing people to the exit and Jan keeping everyone calm. A whooshing sound of the air moving behind him let him know that Thor was at his back.

"Ahh, Captain!" MODOK clapped his tiny hands together gleefully. "I've read about you. With all your physical perfection, it's a pity they didn't upgrade your brain. You'll always be two steps behind me!" He cackled and turned to face Thor. He sent out a purple beam of psionic energy which Thor tried to block, but the energy passed straight through Mjolnir and hit him in the face. Thor's posture went slack and his eyes glowed purple.

"Now, Thor, you will kill Captain America!" MODOK shrieked, focusing on keeping Thor under his psychic control. Thor's face was blank as he turned towards Steve and raised his hammer. Steve just barely had enough time to raise his shield before the hammer came crashing down, and the resulting shockwave threw both of them through the air.

Steve lost consciousness for a moment but swiftly forced himself to open his eyes and sit up. Thor was in a pile against the opposite wall. Jan ran in to check on him and gave Steve a nod across the room, signaling he was unhurt but passed out. Steve was relieved; at least this way he couldn't be forced under MODOK's control. Looking around, Steve noted that Hank had finished clearing out the crowd, and it was just him and MODOK left.

"Alright, mister, let's finish this," he spat.

"You don't understand!" MODOK whined, hiding behind a piece of debris. "I need the tracking technology!"

"So you can take it back to your AIM masters, is that it?"

"No!" MODOK seemed genuinely distressed by that. "MODOK only wants to get away from AIM. They are mean to poor MODOK!"

Steve squinted at him in consideration. There was a possibility that he was telling the truth - if MODOK was on the run from AIM, then the tracking technology would be a real threat to him. Still, he didn't trust him for an instant.

"You understand," MODOK pleaded pathetically. "You don't want to hurt me, I can tell."

Steve wavered for a second, half way between cover and striding out to deal the finishing blow. It felt cruel, almost bullying to hurt this pathetic creature -

"Haha!" MODOK cackled gleefully as he powered up his psionic beam again. "You heroes are so easy to exploit, and now my beam is recharged!"

Steve reached out to grab his shield and realized with a sickening feeling that it wasn't there. It must have been blown away by the blast, and now MODOK was advancing on him.

"Cap! Incoming!" That was all the warning Steve needed to look up and register his shield arcing towards him. He threw his arm up and caught the shield by reflex as it sailed over his head, and he pulled it in front of him as MODOK fired his psionic beam. He angled the shield just so, such that MODOK's beam was reflected back towards him. From behind his shield, Steve heard an angry yelp of surprise and he looked up to find MODOK on his back, legs wiggling uselessly in the air and smoke rising from the console on his chest.

"Curse you, Captain America!"

Steve walked up to him, looking down piteously at the sad sight of the enormous head wobbling around on the floor.

"You'll never beat me!" MODOK hit a button on his exosuit and a tremendous flash of light filled the hall, blinding Steve. He threw his hands over his eyes instinctively, but even with the serum his eyesight was nothing but a field of white for severals seconds.

As he blinked and the lights swimming in front of his eyes cleared, he saw that MODOK had fled out of the same window he came in.

Annoyed at having lost the target but relieved that no one had been hurt, Steve looked around to see who had tossed him his shield while he was fighting. Scanning the crumbling wreckage of the room, his eyes went wide when he spotted Mr. Stark giving him a thumbs up from behind the smoking wreckage of a piano.

Steve's initial feeling of being impressed by Mr. Stark's quick thinking and accurate aim was quickly overridden by the anger that he had put himself in harm's way. He was just an ordinary human, not trained, not prepared, and very fragile. Steve's features set into a scowl as he spotted scorch marks on the wall, so very close to Mr. Stark's head.

Mr. Stark trotted over to join him, tie askew, hair tousled, and eyes a little wild. He was grinning at Steve like this was some kind of damn game. "I guess we do make a good team after all, huh Cap?"

The worry and anxiety and guilt at having put a civilian in such danger boiled out of Steve in anger. 

"What on earth were you thinking, putting yourself in the line of fire? You can't just throw yourself into a firefight like that!" Steve shouted at him. "You're not a hero, Mr. Stark! You need to let us do our jobs!"

Mr. Stark's face fell like he'd taken a punch to the gut, and Steve couldn't bare to look at him and feel remorse for failing at his duty of protection for a second longer. He stormed out of the room and left Jan and Hank to coordinate the cleanup.

***

After the team's rather troubled attempt to protect Mr. Stark, Steve gained a whole new respect for Iron Man's tactical abilities as a bodyguard - and for his patience at putting up with his prickly employer. 

Stark had snippily informed the team that Iron Man would be back from his business trip at the end of the week so they would have to do without him until then before disappearing off into his workshop. Steve tried not to feel impatient, but he found himself counting the days until his friend returned.

When Iron Man finally stuck his head into the kitchen a few days later, Steve was so delighted to see him that he ran over and wrapped him up in a hug without thinking about it. Iron Man seemed tense for a moment, but sagged into Steve as he wrapped his arms around him and let himself be cuddled close.

"Missed you, fella," Steve said with the biggest smile he'd felt in ages.

"Missed you too, big guy," Iron Man replied quietly, head still nestled into Steve's shoulder.

***

It wasn't long before Stark visited the team while they were eating breakfast together in the kitchen. 

To Steve's disappointment, there was no sign of Iron Man with him.

"Hello! How's my favorite team doing today?" Mr. Stark waved as he entered.

"We're good, thanks, Tony!" Jan exclaimed warmly. "That new ultrastretch fabric you developed for my uniform is just swell."

Stark grinned and Steve raised an eyebrow in surprise. He hadn't expected that Stark would bother devoting his time to helping out the team personally.

"And everyone else?" Mr. Stark offered. "Anyone in need of uniform maintenance or equipment upgrades?"

Hank demurred and said he had everything he needed. Thor seemed perplexed by the question.

"How about you, Captain?" Mr. Stark asked, almost shyly. "I could upgrade your uniform to a Kevlar weave for better protection, or I had some ideas about the shield..."

Steve would rather have cut off a hand than have his beloved shield interfered with in any way.

"Thanks, but no," he said firmly. "Gadgets and upgrades might be fun, but they're no substitute for good old fashioned training and hard work."

Stark's mouth twisted into a frown, and Steve felt a pang of guilt. He could see that he was trying to offer his help, but he was still wary of his intentions.

"Speaking of training," Mr. Stark looked at his feet. "After our last mission together didn't go so well, I was hoping that you could show me a few self defense basics, if it's not too much trouble. I want to be able to look after myself and not rely on Iron Man and you guys all the time."

Steve leveled an assessing look at Mr. Stark, who was turning out to be full of surprises. Steve had been annoyed by his lack of preparedness before, so he couldn't very well turn down an honest request for training when it was presented.

"Sure thing, Mr. Stark," he said, a little warily. "Meet me in the gym after lunch today and we can go through a few drills."

Mr. Stark beamed as if that was the best news he'd heard all day. "Will do, Cap!" he exclaimed and scurried off to get back to whatever it was that businessmen did all day.

Jan gave him an approving nod, and Steve steeled himself to be as patient as he could be when drilling a newbie.

As it turned out, when their training session arrived Mr. Stark was actually extremely attentive and a quick learner. He was still skittish about being touched, but he threw himself into training despite his discomfort.

Steve walked him through the basics of deflecting attacks and assessing threats, then took him to the mats to spar. Steve had barely got his feet planted when Mr. Stark threw himself at him, all uncoordinated enthusiasm which Steve easily sidestepped. 

"Remember," he chided gently, "think first, then act."

Mr. Stark righted himself and lasered his focus in on Steve, tracking his movements. Steve made a few careful feints which Stark ignored, seeming to know when he wasn't in earnest. Mr. Stark's icy blue eyes glinted as they moved around each other, and he began predicting moves Steve made with unexpected insight.

But insight wasn't enough to outweigh superior strength and training, and Steve knocked him off his feet with a low kick and then rolled on top of him to pin him to the mat.

For just a moment Steve felt the air between them thicken with tension as Mr. Stark writhed beneath him and failed to throw him off.

"You got me good there, Cap," he said, a little breathless. "I sure am glad that you're on our team."

Steve smiled despite himself as he rolled off Mr. Stark and offered him a hand up. He found himself thinking that their benefactor was one curious sort of man: every time that Steve thought he'd got a handle on him, he'd turn around and surprise him once again.

Steve still would rather have spent the afternoon with Iron Man though.

***

Steve tried to be sensible. 

He tried to consider the needs of the team before himself, to make sure that he was the best version of himself that he could be. He tried to be responsible not only when it was easy, but also when it was hard. And so he sat in the mansion's spacious living area, making a concerted effort to concentrate on the tedious readiness reports in front of him.

But he was also only human.

Whatever else the serum had done to him, it hadn't changed that. And so really, it wasn't his fault when Iron Man interrupted him and suggested with a wicked lift to his voice that they should get out of there. He was powerless to resist.

Iron Man took Steve by the hand and tugged him into the nearest room with a door – which happened to be Mr. Stark's private office.

Steve would have felt guilty about being there when its regular occupant wasn't, as he knew how Mr. Stark felt about his privacy, but Iron Man distracted him. 

"I had an idea," he announced.

"Yeah?" Steve tried to play it casual, like he wasn't already mentally running through a list of possible activities they could get up to.

"Yeah. I always want to get my hands on you, but I know that touching is not exactly convenient in our, uhh, situation." Steve couldn't argue with that. There were indeed some complications which arose when the fella you were making a go of it with had to stay encased in armor whenever you were around him.

"So I was thinking," Iron Man was also trying to play it casual, and - like Steve - also failing. "Why don't you show me? Show me how you like to touch yourself. I... I want to watch you."

Steve's cheeks heated at the suggestion. While he might have mentally compiled a thorough list of fantasies related to Iron Man and the many different ways they could be together, this he hadn't considered. Iron Man wanted to just... watch? The idea was both embarrassing and rather enticing.

"Why would you want that?" Steve inquired, gesturing vaguely. His body was beginning to respond to the idea and he tactically positioned himself behind a chair.

Iron Man looked at him pointedly. "I want to watch you. I want to learn how you like it. I want to see how you pleasure yourself, see what you enjoy the most... so that when we're together, I can make it good for you." 

He sounded a bit shy about that last part. It was rather sweet.

"Judging from the last couple of times, I don't think you need much help with that." Steve could feel a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "But yeah, okay, let's try it." He was surprised at how confident his own voice sounded.

Iron Man's head perked up, like he hadn't been expecting that, and he stepped forward and ran a chilly finger down Steve's chest, pushing him back until the backs of his thighs hit the desk. Steve understood the implication and he blushed.

"You mean right here? In Mr. Stark's office?"

"Why not?" Iron Man sounded equally mischievous. "He's away for the day. I'm pretty certain there's no chance of him walking in on us."

And now, of course, Steve couldn't help but think about Mr. Stark opening the door and seeing him and Iron Man wrapped around each other. The way his lips would form an _O_ of surprise, his blue eyes widening with shock... and perhaps a hint of desire. Steve's dick twitched at the thought and his blush deepened.

"Oh," Iron Man was startled for a moment, but he pulled it together enough to sound sultry as he continued. "I see. You like it. You like the idea of Mr. Stark walking in and seeing you like that."

Steve tried to protest – it seemed so disrespectful, to admit to thinking about another person when he was here with Iron Man – but Iron Man leaned over him and pressed a cool finger to his lips.

"Don't worry," Iron Man sounded almost amused. "I promise I'm not jealous. I was just under the impression that you hated the guy."

Steve considered trying to explain: it wasn't that he hated Mr. Stark, it was only that he didn't like the way he talked about Iron Man, or the way he was so willfully blind of his bodyguard's many excellent qualities. But as their benefactor, he put up the team, he opened his home to them, he helped them all, hell, he'd even built the remarkable armor. He was frustrating and hot headed, but Steve had realized that there was a kind heart under all the bluster.

He could have explained all this to Iron Man, but it didn't seem important to talk about it right this instant. He gave a non-committal shrug instead. "It's... complicated. Can we not discuss Mr. Stark right now?"

"Why, is there something else you'd rather be doing?" Steve could swear that he could hear the raised eyebrow that he was sure accompanied the challenge. He was suddenly very interested in seeing how far he could go with this, whether he could really put on a show for Iron Man.

Steve reached down, and tried not to hesitate as he cupped himself through his uniform shorts, palming gently at his cock.

"Oh," Iron Man gave a little gasp, as if he was the one being touched. "Yeah, that's good."

Steve swallowed, feeling somewhat foolish. But he took Iron Man's interest as encouragement and rubbed more firmly, feeling himself harden, indulging in the pleasure for a moment. But that wasn't all they were here for, was it?

He popped open the button of his shorts and slowly undid his fly.

He could feel Iron Man's gaze hanging on him intently as he pushed down his shorts and briefs and his cock sprung free, hard and red.

Iron Man stepped back to admire the view. "God, Steve, you're breathtaking."

The thick layer of desire in his voice sent shivers up Steve's spine, and he wrapped his hand around his cock with a satisfied sigh. The thought of being on display like this both unsettled and aroused him, but Iron Man kept letting out little gasps and Steve felt compelled to see if he could undo the man without ever touching him.

Steve stroked himself languidly, letting himself slowly settle into a comfortable rhythm.

"Look at you," Iron Man breathed, and Steve felt a rush of blood to his cheeks when he imagined the picture he made: propped up against the edge of the desk, his uniform in disarray and his cock in hand.

"That's so perfect, you're just, you're incredible," Iron Man was babbling. "Everywhere I go from now until the day I die, there's going to be a little bit of me that thinking about you, here, like this."

Steve tried to suppress a bashful smile at that, but didn't quite succeed. He was more determined than ever to make this a real show for Iron Man.

He ran his hand over his balls and reached up to stroke gently behind them, rubbing that sensitive spot which made him clench. "I want -"

"What is it, Cap? Whatever you want, anything."

"I want to use my fingers." Steve's cheeks definitely burned as he admitted that.

"God," Iron Man answered without pausing to breathe. "Yes. Please do that."

Steve smiled at the enthusiasm and shuffled himself back until he was sitting on top of Mr. Stark's desk. He pushed his pants down to his ankles and propped his booted feet against the desk's edge, a little awkward but also undeniably exciting. The expensive leather of the writing top stuck to his bare ass as he shifted, left hand free to run fingers around his hole while he stroked himself with his right hand.

He hummed in satisfaction and he noticed that Iron Man had to reach out to steady himself on a chair.

He brought his hand up to his mouth, sucking on his fingers and getting them good and wet. He heard a creaking sound, and looked over to see that the back of the chair that Iron Man was holding on to was starting to crack under the suit's grip.

Steve flashed Iron Man a wicked grin as he brought his fingers back down to circle lightly around his hole, other hand keeping up his carefully timed strokes, and tried not to think about the mess he was making of Mr. Stark's office. He teased himself with his fingers, rubbing softly and occasionally dipping the tip of a finger inside. With his other hand, he picked up the pace, jerking himself faster and wanting to both push up into his hand and down onto his fingers at the same time. He was exquisitely aware of Iron Man watching him. Sliding a finger inside made Steve shudder even though he was expecting it: the feeling of stretch, of openness, of vulnerability. But there was something more that he wanted, and there would never be a better time to ask for it.

"It's not enough. I want... Iron Man, I want your fingers. The armor, I want it inside me."

Iron Man actually moaned. "Cap, wow, that's... God. But I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't. I can take it," Steve whined, letting an edge of the desperation he felt into his voice. "Please."

And that seemed to work, because Iron Man crossed the room in the blink of an eye, leaning over Steve like he was considering devouring him whole. He carefully moved Steve's hand aside and ran one metal finger delicately down the line of his ass, catching ever so gently at his rim, making Steve shudder and grind his hips down.

"We're going to need something slick," Steve gasped, trying to keep his head as he considered the practicalities of what they were about to try.

"That I can do," Iron Man said determinedly, walking around to the other side of the desk and opening a drawer. As he produced a small tube with a victorious cock of the head, Steve felt his mouth go dry. Mr. Stark kept lube in his office? And Iron Man knew exactly where to find it? He had no idea what to do with that information.

Fortunately he didn't have to dwell on it for long, as Iron Man thoroughly captured his attention by squeezing slick liquid across the fingers of the armor. The sight of the thick oil running down the shiny red fingers made his breath come harder and his skin burn with anticipation.

"It's okay," Iron Man reassured him. "This is safe as long as I go slow. I, uh, tried it on myself one time."

Steve definitely stopped breathing for a moment as he parsed that mental image.

"I bet Mr. Stark would love to hear what you've been getting up to with his invention. I doubt this particular function was on his mind when he built the armor," Steve teased.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Iron Man said with what was clearly a smirk. "He's a man of diverse tastes."

And that was just cruel, because now Steve couldn't help imaging Mr. Stark naked with the armor, blue eyes fluttering shut as he slid his hand into one of the gauntlets and fingered himself. He flushed at the thought and Iron Man stroked him again, cool fingers smearing liquid between his ass cheeks and flicking softly against his hole.

"Come on, do it," he moaned, and he knew he sounded wrecked already.

"Not yet. These fingers are thick and I need to warm you up first." Steve's head buzzed and he realized that was true: the chunky fingers of the armor were considerably wider than even his own sturdy fingers. "And damn, if you don't look so pretty when you're hot for it like this."

Steve would probably have objected to being described as pretty if he wasn't so out of it. As it was, he let his head drop back and let the sensations wash over him as Iron Man continued rubbing his fingers around his rim, pausing only briefly to add more lube.

Even with all his care, when Iron Man finally slid a single finger into him by a fraction it felt bigger than Steve had anticipated. The metal was hard and unyielding inside him, and he had to steady himself by focusing on his breathing. He let himself relax around the stretch as Iron Man stroked his free hand down his flank.

"You're doing so good," he murmured appreciatively. "You're doing so well."

Steve whined at that. "More. Please, Iron Man, I need more."

"Yeah, okay, I've got you, Cap," Iron Man said, and pushed his finger in further. Steve felt his muscles clenching down as the smooth metal slid into him. Once his finger was inside Steve up to the second knuckle, he slowly drew it out again and Steve writhed.

"Yes," Steve breathed out as Iron Man pumped his finger slowly in and out, filling him up and then dragging back over the sensitive rim. "Yes, just like that."

Iron Man built up a rhythm which had Steve's whole body shaking as he was thrust into. He pushed down to meet the finger's thrusts, trying to get more.

"Jesus. Look at you fucking yourself on my finger. Taking it so well, like I knew you would. I could come inside the armor right now without a hand on me, just from watching you."

Steve could barely hold together a coherent thought, but the idea that Iron Man might be enjoying this as much as he was, that he was getting off on this too, made his head spin. He brought his hand down from where he'd grabbed onto the desk and started pumping his cock furiously in time with Iron Man's thrust.

It didn't take long before he could feel himself nearing the edge. "Yes, oh Iron Man, you feel so good, I'm so close-"

And then Iron Man pushed deep inside him and crooked his finger slightly, brushing up against his prostate and Steve saw stars as he came with a force that drove the air from his lungs.

He felt Iron Man slowly, gently extracting his finger, then spreading an appreciative hand through the streaks of fluid on Steve's stomach.

"You're going to make a mess of me," Steve told him with a dozy smile.

"It's a bit late for that," Iron Man replied smugly.

"I guess it is," Steve laughed and propped himself up onto his elbows and made a vague effort to rearrange his clothes, sighing at the mess smeared across his chest.

Then he tugged Iron Man closer to him and held him in a sticky embrace. "Come back to my room for the night?" he offered with a little flutter of hope.

"I can't right now. I have to.... go elsewhere first." Iron Man's voice was thick and he turned uncertainly on his heel.

"Oh. Okay," Steve tried not to sound disappointed. He had quietly hoped that Iron Man might want to stay in his bed tonight, to curl up together for a time even if not to sleep. Steve was sort of a cuddler, he had to admit.

Iron Man turned back towards Steve and cupped his face with both hands. 

"Hey, don't pout. I want to spend the evening with you, I just. You know. Need a moment alone first. Because the sight of you like that has broken me entirely, and if I don't get this armor off and get my hands on my cock in the next two minutes, I am absolutely going to die. You've addled me, Cap, that's what you've done."

"I'm pretty sure that you were at least a little bit addled to start with." Steve teased, the tension fading from him. "As you were the one who suggested that in the first place."

"And it was undoubtedly one of my very finest ideas. Why don't you go and get cleaned up, and I'll meet you in your room in ten?"

"All right, Shellhead, you go enjoy yourself and I'll see you soon."

Steve should have felt silly as he leaned over to press a quick kiss to the cold cheek of the faceplate, but he didn't. It seemed like the right thing to do.

***

The next morning Steve had woken alone, again, and tried to make his peace with the situation. 

Now the team were in a finance meeting, and Steve had to make an effort to pay attention. While it was surely important to discuss to which charities donations should be sent and how to recompense people whose home of businesses had been destroyed in Avengers fights, Steve didn't feel at his most useful in these situations. Mr. Stark was leading the team through a discussion of quarterly figures and ROIs and investment options, and Steve's eyes were starting to cross.

He looked around and wished that Iron Man were here, but he'd had to attend to Stark Industries business elsewhere. If Iron Man were here, they could have made eye contact over the table and held one of their wordless conversations about how dull the topic of finance could be. As it was, Steve was with Hank and Jan who seemed to understand all of the terms Mr. Stark was using and to be contributing usefully to the meeting, and Thor who had zoned out so completely that he might well have been asleep.

Steve drummed his fingers on the table and vaguely wondered what exactly a tax-neutral charitable foundation fund was, but he was snapped out of his reverie by the beeping of Avengers ID cards that suddenly filled the room. He snapped to attention instantly and pressed the button on his card, secretly relieved by the break in the monotony.

A voice from the local police station was patched through to his card: "Avengers, we need your help. We've receiving reports of a giant flying head that is terrifying tourists at the Empire State Building. Because the threat is airborne, the building had to be put on lockdown and now people are trapped inside. Our officers are coordinating the evacuation on the ground but we need you to neutralize the threat and get the civilians trapped inside to safety."

"We're on it, officer," Steve said firmly, leaping to his feet. "There's no time to delay. We need to get to the Empire State Building now." Hank, Jan and Thor were springing into action too, checking equipment and straightening their costumes.

"I'm coming with you." Stark's tone was firm and betrayed no hint of uncertainty.

Steve blinked. "Uhh, Mr. Stark, I don't think that's a good idea -"

"MODOK knows me," he said, undaunted. "He knows me and he knows that I have the technology that he wants. I'm the perfect distraction."

"I really think that Iron Man would be better suited to that job. Why don't you call him?"

At the sound of Iron Man's name, Stark's lips pursed in anger. He couldn't still be jealous of his bodyguard, could he?

"I'll call him while we deploy," Stark said evenly. "But I'm coming with you, and we don't have time to argue about this. Let's go."

Steve looked to Jan and Hank for support, but Hank opted out of the confrontation and Jan shrugged in a what-you-gonna-do way. Thor was beaming at the prospect of an upcoming fight.

There was no time to argue. 

"Fine," Steve gritted out as the team hurried towards the hanger together. He turned to give Mr. Stark a serious look. "But if you're going to be with the team, then I'm going to need you to follow orders." 

The _this time_ was left unsaid.

The ride to the Empire State Building in the Quinjet was brief but tense, everyone bracing for whatever challenges they might find ahead. They still hadn't heard from Iron Man, and Steve tried not to fret. As they banked towards the imposingly tall building, they saw the unmistakable silhouette of MODOK zipping around the higher floors on his floating chair.

"BOW BEFORE MODOK!" he was yelling, kicking his tiny legs wildly. "YOU PUNY HUMANS WILL OBEY!"

Jan grimaced as they approached, seeing that several windows on the top floors had been blown out to expose the office space within. They could see people running around inside the buildings, trying to stay away from the huge hole in the side that emptied into the air, a thousand feet up.

As they watched, MODOK sent out a beam that emanated from the band around his head, the same psychic weapon he'd used before on Thor. But this time the target was a random member of the public: one of the office workers cowering inside the building.

When the beam hit him his face slackened and he stood jerkily, shambling toward the open window. He looked out at MODOK. "What is your command, master?" he asked.

MODOK clapped his tiny hands together with glee. "Congratulations, office drone. You are my subject now. And your first task… is to BRING ME A CUP OF TEA."

Aboard the Quinjet, the team stared at each other in confusion.

"I want Earl Grey," MODOK ordered, his voice high and whiny but tremendously loud. "Hot and fresh. NO MILK OR YOU SHALL BE EXTERMINATED!"

Through the window, they could see the office drone nod slowly and set off looking for a kettle and tea bags.

Jan wrinkled her nose. "So, uhh, that's a new approach to villainy."

"Whatever his current plan is, MODOK is still a danger." Steve gathered the team around him. Iron Man still hadn't got in contact, so they would have to do this without him. "The priority is to get the civilians out of there. We'll land the jet, then Hank can grow, and he and Thor can lift civilians from the top floors of the building to the ground. Jan, you're with me - we're going into the building to coordinate the evacuation from inside."

A polite cough from the other side of the jet.

"Oh, and, uhh, Mr. Stark, you can…" he tried to think of somewhere safe to send Mr. Stark.

"I'll come with you and Jan," Stark said firmly. "I can attract MODOK's attention while you get the civilians out."

Steve wanted to argue, feeling uncertain about the idea of putting their benefactor in harm's way. But there was no time - he could see that workers inside the office were starting to panic, and the last thing they wanted was a stampede. He twisted his lips unhappily but nodded. "Alright, team. Let's go."

They parked the Quinjet and Hank hurried out, onlookers gasping as he grew to giant size until he stood next to the building, like a friendly King Kong. Thor swung his hammer and shot upward into the air, lightning crackling at his heels. "Fear not, dear mortals!" his booming voiced carried from on high. "We have come to render aid!"

Hank carefully brought down a giant hand the size of a car to street level, and Steve, Mr. Stark and Jan climbed on. The sight of Hank, the size of three houses, trying to carefully crouch without knocking any buildings over with his gigantic ass would have been funny on another occasion. As it was, when Hank raised his hand to lift them high above street level, an unpleasant feeling of vertigo caused Steve to sit down sharply. Hank lifted them up and up over head until they were in front of the blown out windows on the higher floors, and Steve shoved aside the urge to vomit, definitely sure that Hank wouldn't appreciate that. He jumped through the shattered window into the chaotic office, Jan and Mr. Stark following close behind.

There must have been nearly a hundred civilians in there - a mix of confused tourists and panicked office workers by the looks of it - but there was no sign of MODOK now. Steve decided to focus on the civilians, encouraging them to line up by the window so that Hank could lift them down to safety. Thor was patrolling the outside of the building, racing to catch any civilians who fell.

Back inside, the panic was building to a crescendo. People were running and pushing and threatening each other to get to the head of line. This wasn't good -

"Hi everyone!" Jan somehow projected her bright and cheery voice over the whole crowd. "I know this is scary but we're going to get you all out! I just need you to follow my instructions and stay calm. No pushing and shoving each other, okay? Can you do that for me?" The last question had an edge to it, like a disappointed schoolteacher. The civilians looked at each other and shuffled their feet.

"Wonderful!" Jan continued. "Everyone line up over here against this wall, that's good, just like that."

Satisfied that Jan had the situation under control, Steve assessed the area for dangers. The structural stability was holding for now, but the massive hole in the window was letting in huge gusts of air that could knock someone off their feet. Mr. Stark was venturing perilously close to the edge, examining the shattered pieces of glass.

"Hey Cap," he called. "Look at this. I'm almost certain that this damage was done by the same weapon that attacked us at the conference. It looks like MODOK is up to his old tricks-"

Suddenly, a dark shade blotted out the sun from their vision, bobbing in the air outside the building "IT IS I!" A screeching voice declared. "MODOK IS HERE!"

Steve threw himself forward, shield held out in front of him. He reached Mr. Stark just before the psionic beam did, pushed him aside and deflected the beam with his shield.

MODOK kicked his little legs in frustration. "You are no fun, Captain America!" he yelled.

Behind Steve, Stark crouched and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I've got this, Cap. I'll distract him while you and Jan get the civilians out."

Steve opened his mouth to argue but Stark was already strafing behind him and waving cheerily at MODOK. 

"He _is_ no fun, couldn't agree more!" Mr. Stark said. "Why don't you and I have a chat, huh, MODOK? I heard that you're interested in my tracking technology."

At that, MODOK perked up considerably. "MODOK is interested in _all_ technology. All that can be used for the subjugation and domination of others!"

"Uhh, well, that's not exactly what it's for, but it's good to have a healthy scientific curiosity. Let me explain how it works…"

As he talked, Stark was walking from one window to the next, getting MODOK to follow him away from the civilians. This plan still seemed crazy to Steve, but it was working for now. 

He turned and helped Jan to corral the civilians, lifting the more frail or frightened onto Hank's outstretched hand so they could be taken down to safety in small groups.

"- it uses heat signatures for the basic locating, see, and then filters those signatures by frequently and density and combines them with environment data to posit likely locations for lost individuals-" Steve could hear Stark explaining in the background, punctuated by MODOK's squeals of excitement.

"This tracking technology," MODOK declared, as Steve was helping an older women onto Hank's hand. "I want it!"

"See, buddy, I'm afraid that's not possible," Stark was explaining. "It needs to be plugged into the Stark satellite grid to function, and that can only be accessed from my lab."

"BUT I WANT IT!"

Stark seemed unruffled. "I know ya do, champ, but that's not going to work. Maybe you'd like something else instead. How about an upgrade to your chair? The mobility systems on that one seem a little wobbly."

"MY CHAIR IS PERFECT IN ITS CONSTRUCTION! YOUR FOOLISH MIND CANNOT COMPREHEND ITS MAJESTY." Steve looked around to see MODOK's chair careening wildly from one window to the other, tipping at a concerning angle.

"Uhh, whatever you say, pal. How about we work on the colors and style then, give it a visual makeover? Our girl Wasp is the best in the business."

"NO MAKEOVERS!"

Steve stepped forward to help a man in a suit and tie who had stumbled and fallen, picking him up and helping him onto Hank's hand. Looking out of the window, he saw Thor flying around the building and a crowd of emergency responders tending to the civilians as Hank placed them on the ground. They'd rescued about half of them so far - they just needed Stark to buy them a little more time.

"I must have the tracking technology!" MODOK whined.

"Tell me, what do you need it for?" Mr. Stark sounded surprisingly calm. "Are you looking for something? Maybe I can help."

"MODOK NEEDS NO HELP FROM YOU!"

"Sure, sure, of course."

"MODOK needs it because… MODOK does not like AIM." MODOK's voice was suddenly small. "AIM are mean. They kept MODOK in a basement."

"A basement? That doesn't sound nice at all."

"It was HORRIBLE. It was cold and damp and MODOK had no one to talk to."

"That's no way to treat anyone."

"MODOK does not want to go back to AIM. If AIM have the tracking technology, they can find MODOK and put him back in the basement. If MODOK has the tracking technology, MODOK can kill them all!"

Steve glanced round to see Mr. Stark nodding thoughtfully. He didn't seem in the least perturbed by chatting with a potentially homicidal flying head.

"I see. I can certainly understand why you want the tracking technology then."

"YOU WILL GIVE THE TECHNOLOGY TO MODOK?"

"No can do, buddy. But listen, maybe there's a way we can work this out-"

Steve was quietly impressed - Mr. Stark was really quite skilled at this distraction business. The last few of the civilians were getting ready to climb out onto Hank's hand, and then everyone would be safe.

Steve took stock: with MODOK distracted, he would be able to sneak over to the other side of the building. Stark had been leading him in that direction, and there was an open window they were approaching that would provide the perfect opportunity. Steve just had to throw his shield through the opening, and he could catch MODOK's mobility suit in the back. He'd seen a power pack there earlier, and that would almost certainly disable him.

Of course, there was the small issue that disabling the chair in midair would send MODOK tumbling to the ground. Would Thor be able to catch him in time? Steve chewed over the odds.

"There, there. It's okay," Stark was saying. "It's gotta be tough to be a hyper-intelligent flying head living in AIM's basement."

Stark was actually leaning out of the window, attempting to pat MODOK on the arm. Steve was struck by the thought that that was just the kind of thing that Iron Man would do - trying to comfort someone, even when they were threatening him. Steve smiled to himself, thinking that perhaps there was a bit of a hero in Mr. Stark after all.

"It was the WORST!" MODOK wailed. "MODOK doesn't want to go back!"

"I wouldn't want that either. That's why we're going to work something out."

Stark stepped away from the window, and Steve had his chance. The last of the civilians were away, and he had a clear shot with his shield straight out the window. He turned to the side and braced to throw.

Then Stark turned and looked right at him, shaking his head urgently. He stepped in front of the window and Steve bit back a hiss of annoyance.

"Mr. Stark," he called, "you really ought to step away from that window." He tried to convey his plan to take down MODOK through the use of his eyebrows.

"No, Cap, I really don't think I should." Stark glared back at him. "MODOK and I were just talking this out -"

"You can't reason with a —" Steve searched for an appropriate term that wasn't derogatory "— unreasonable flying head."

"Think first, then act," Stark said smugly. "As a wise friend once told me."

"That's not what I meant!" Steve grumbled.

"And yet it's still advice I'm going to take. I really think we can help him."

MODOK popped his giant head out from behind Stark. "MODOK wants friends!"

Steve blinked. "But what about the tracking technology that he was trying to steal?" he asked.

Stark shrugged. "We agreed that as long as I make sure AIM never get their hands on the tracking technology, MODOK will be safe from them. Then he won't need to attack anyone else. And I have this facility upstate where he could stay for a while, get him adjusted to life outside of the basement. We can visit to teach him."

"MODOK will have Avenger friends!"

Steve narrowed his eyes, still suspicious that MODOK was up to no good. "He attacked the Empire State Building," he said. "I don't know that he can be trusted."

MODOK wailed. "MODOK only wanted tea! The AIM scientists would talk and talk and talk about their tea breaks and how they couldn't wait to have more tea, and they never offered any to MODOK! MODOK just wanted to try!"

"So you _attacked a public building_?" Steve asked incredulously.

"He didn't know any better, Cap," Stark said. "He's only known violence and neglect all his life. You should have seen his giant face when I told him I could arrange for a cup of tea for him every day."

MODOK bounced up and down in his chair, beaming at Stark as if he were the most wonderful person in the world. "Avengers friends and tea!"

Steve boggled. But he couldn't deny that he was touched by Stark's thoughtfulness. He had looked beneath the surface and offered his compassion, and Steve felt that really he should do the same. 

"Okay," he said eventually. "But we're going to need to set some ground rules."

As they talked, Jan entered in her miniature size, then grew to full size to update them. "All the civilians are safe and accounted for. Thor wanted to know if his assistance was required."

Steve look at Stark and MODOK. "Actually, Jan, I think we're all done here. MODOK will be coming with us. He's going to try to turn his life around."

"Really?" Jan looked out at MODOK. "Uhh, hi."

"This one is pretty!" MODOK shrieked. "May I keep her?"

Quick as a flash, Jan sent out a bio-electric blast which hit MODOK straight in the chin, sending him flying back several meters. "No," she said firmly. "Also, gross."

"Lesson one on making friends," Stark called cheerfully, "no being sexist to your teammates. Or, to any other women for that matter."

MODOK nodded sulkily. "Fine, fine, MODOK will refrain from commentary on the eroticism of the female form."

"Still kinda gross," Jan chipped in.

Steve felt that the situation had moved rather out of his control. "Right, team, are we ready to depart? Let's get MODOK settled in his new home."

Together, the four of them went to the window to signal Hank to pick them up.

Steve turned to Stark. "That was really quite something, what you did," he said. Stark waved a hand as if it were nothing, but Steve could see the beginnings of a blush on his cheeks. "You and I might have different ways of going about things, but you've got heart where it counts." Stark's cheeks were glowing now. "We're lucky to have you as part of the team."

"Not as lucky as you are to have MODOK!" MODOK interrupted loudly, perfectly spoiling the moment.

Jan rounded on him. "Don't make me zap you again," she warned. "Be nice."

MODOK hung his giant head. "MODOK will try."

***

By the time the team had got MODOK settled in temporary accommodation, and had helped the cleanup crew at the Empire State Building, Steve was beat. He was ready for a warm shower and a hot meal, but he was starting to worry: they still hadn't heard from Iron Man.

"It's no problem," Mr. Stark assured them breezily. He seemed rather excited from his first successful mission as an active member of the team. "I had to send Iron Man out to - erm - pick up my dry cleaning."

Steve's shoulders hunched in annoyance and he was preparing to berate Stark for his thoughtlessness once again when he looked over and saw that Stark was grinning at him cheekily.

_Oh_ , Steve realized dumbly. _That was a joke_. He felt a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Apparently he and Stark shared jokes now? That was unexpected, but a little bloom of warmth spread in his chest at the thought.

"Don't fret, Cap, ol' Shellhead will be back at the mansion tomorrow." Mr. Stark sounded almost fond.

***

The next morning, Steve awoke feeling fresh, with the aches of the battle already faded thanks to the serum. 

He sat up, rubbing his eyes and thinking that it sure would be nice to have Iron Man back today. Maybe they could catch a movie.

As he rolled out of bed, he saw that a note had been slid under his bedroom door. It was written in the blocky characters he recognized as those that Iron Man drew with a pen carefully gripped in his gauntlets. The note simply said: _Had to work today, but didn't want to miss seeing you. Meet me tonight, on the roof, 6pm? -- IM_

Steve gave a small, secret smile, and resisted the urge to clutch the note to his chest like a lovesick teenager. Maybe he was finally getting through to Iron Man how much he wanted to be with him.

The whole rest of the day, he had a spring in his step. He cheerfully volunteered to help Hank with his experiment for the morning, even when it turned out that the help he needed was mostly the lifting and carrying of heavy equipment. Then he had lunch with Thor, who delighted him with tales of the dangerous beasts that lived back on Asgard and how he had vanquished each of them, while the pair of them devoured a pizza the size of a table.

In the afternoon, Steve couldn't help himself from wondering aloud to Jan if he was looking a bit fusty these days and whether he needed a new haircut. She bounced with excitement as she showed him sketches of a few hair styles he could try and introduced him to the rather intimidating world of modern styling products. By the time her work was done, Steve's hair was looking swish and he was feeling good about himself for the first time in a while.

Counting the minutes down to six, Steve headed up the stairs full of nervous anticipation. But when he got to the roof and spotted Iron Man waiting for him by one of the railings, he could immediately tell from his posture that something was wrong: his shoulders were hunched, and he was starting at the ground. He could barely drag his head up to face Steve when he walked over.

"Cap, look," Iron Man began flatly. "There's something I have to tell you."

Iron Man sounded grim, and Steve felt a gnawing sickness in his stomach.

"What we've been doing," Iron Man continued, "being together like we have been, it's been wonderful. But I know it's not enough for you, that you want more. That's why we have to put a stop to this. I meant what I said before, I can't be with you in the way that you want me to."

Iron Man sounded unhappy, but not uncertain. Steve felt like the bottom was dropping out of his world. 

"I thought we were making it work pretty well," he said in a small voice. He knew that he couldn't be what Iron Man truly needed, to trust him fully, but he'd hoped that he would be enough. "I know the situation isn't ideal, but being with you this way has meant a lot to me. I'm sorry that I can't offer you more."

"Oh, Cap, that's not it. You're perfect. It's me. I've been... taking advantage of you. It was terribly selfish of me, and I'm sorry." Iron Man bowed his head in shame, but Steve just felt confused.

"Look, Iron Man, whatever it is, we can work it out," he tried not to panic at Iron Man's behavior, hoping to reassure himself at the same time.

"No. We can't. You deserve to know the truth. You should know the kind of person I really am."

Steve tried to argue. He had said before that he didn't need to know Iron Man's identity to care about him, and he still didn't. But Iron Man was ignoring his protests and reaching up to unhook the clasps which held his helmet in place.

He took off the helmet, and Steve found himself staring into familiar blue eyes. His jaw dropped.

"Mr. Stark?" he asked, shocked.

Mr. Stark rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I guess you better start calling me Tony."


	5. Chapter 5

Steve felt like he might have blanked out for a moment. 

Because when he snapped back to himself, he had run from the roof, and was headed straight to the garage attached to the mansion. He hopped onto his bike and drove, without stopping to think about direction or destination.

A tumultuous knot of hurt and anger and shame awaited him whenever his thoughts turned to Iron Man and his revelation, so he pushed all thoughts from his mind and just rode. The road solid beneath his tires, the wind whipping in his face, the guttural thrum of the engine beneath him; this was his meditation, this was his quiet place.

He pulled over a few miles outside the city to send a message to Hank and Jan via his communicator, to let them know that he was taking the night off. The last thing he needed right now was the team rapidly converging on his location because they thought he'd been kidnapped by supervillains. While he was stopped, he checked the bike's saddle bags and was relieved to see that there was a drawing pad and pencils tucked in there along with his repair tools.

So he kept driving, riding out of the hubbub of New York and into the peaceful countryside beyond. He slowed the bike as he passed through dramatic scenery; rolling hills and valleys, whooshing rivers passing sandy riverbanks, agricultural fields which stretched for miles.

Eventually he found a spot which looked appealing: a short distance away from where the highway crossed a river was a natural lake, with rocks dotted around it and reeds growing up through the sandy soil. He pulled over the bike, took out his art supplies, and settled onto a rock to draw.

It had been longer than he had intended since he'd put time into his art. He still sketched sporadically, mostly out of habit, but in recent months he'd struggled to find the focus required for working on a large drawing or painting. His charcoals seemed to be one more indicator that he was out of his time, producing work which seemed staid and fusty by the standards of the wild experimental modern art he saw in exhibitions and galleries.

But for all his ambivalence about the quality of work that he produced, he never stopped appreciating the process of drawing. The progression from blank page to rough outlines to firm lines was soothing, clear in its definiteness in a way that his messy and complicated life rarely was. When he felt overwhelmed or unsure, he could sit down with paper and a pencil and wait to see what appeared. He felt like drawing aided his processing, as if he wasn't sure what he thought or felt until he sat down to draw and it came flowing out of him.

So he perched on his rock, uncomfortable and, to be quite honest, slightly cold, and he drew. He couldn't summon up the concentration required to complete full pieces, so he drew quick rough sketches consisting of simple outlines and blurry pencil shading. He drew the view of the lake in front of him, then he drew a bird that settled on the ground nearby and regarded him quizzically, and then a detailed study of a little tuft of grass which popped up in the sandy shore.

As he settled into the flow of sketching, his mind free to wander, and he found himself drawing subjects he hadn't thought of in a long time. He outlined the features of each of the Howling Commandos, his colleagues from the war, and a figure of beautiful Peggy Carter, standing straight and tall and clearly in charge. Then he found his output shifting, to portray the team he'd found since waking up in the future. There was Jan, laughing at his dumb jokes, there was Hank, hunched over a bench piled high with beakers and test tubes, there was Thor, a broad grin on his face as he sized up an opponent. The sun slunk lower over the horizon as he worked, the light fading from bright white to deep yellow to burnt orange.

Eventually - because how could he not? - he began drawing Iron Man. Iron Man jetting off into the skyline; Iron Man swooping in to a dramatic scene of fire to save the day; Iron Man and the way he'd slump slightly over the breakfast table when he was tired. The shine of the armor, the glint of the golden faceplate in the sun, the way he cocked his head and spread his hands when he was trying not to laugh at something charmingly dated that Steve had said.

And then he found himself sketching Mr. Stark. Handsome face, arched eyebrows, a smirk quirking at the corner of his lips. He thought back to the times he'd seen Mr. Stark around the mansion, and then suddenly the details of each interaction flooded back to him. Mr. Stark, elegant fingers working on the delicate circuitry inside the armor; Mr. Stark, checking up on the team and worrying over whether they needed anything; Mr. Stark, smiling brightly for the press but always looking so tired around the eyes.

He stopped. Took a breath. And then drew what seemed the natural conclusion of his reverie, a sketch which was larger and more detailed than any he'd drawn so far: Mr. Stark, in the Iron Man suit. Helmet off to show bright eyes and a mustache tweaked upwards in a self-deprecating smile. Sharp lines of armor, clever blue eyes, bulky chest, gentle hands.

Mr. Stark. Iron Man. Tony.

Steve looked down at the sketch and knew what he had to do.

***

Steve returned to the mansion ready to talk and expected Tony to be in his workshop or in the Avengers’ lounge. 

But in fact he was in neither location, and Steve was starting to worry that he’d scared him off; that his reaction to learning Tony’s secret had been too extreme. He hadn’t meant to hurt Tony, but it had been an awful lot to process.

Steve was starting to contemplate the possibility that Tony had done something drastic, like quitting the team or running away to live with the circus, and was ready to blame himself for everything when he had a thought.

He went up to the roof of the mansion and, with a surge of relief the strength of which surprised him, he saw Tony perched on a fold out deckchair with his knees tucked under his chin, gazing contemplatively out over the city.

Steve pushed back the swell of doubt and uncertainty that welled up in him, and walked forward to stand next to Tony, eyes on the skyline.

He took a breath. “Was it always you?” he asked, voice carefully level. “Have you been Iron Man since the beginning?”

Tony glanced over at him, regret written across every inch of his features. “Yes,” he said, quietly, dropping his gaze towards the ground.

Steve thought about all the times he’d seen Tony rushing off and Iron Man appearing to take his place. He’d never questioned it at the time; why would he? Tony was his benefactor and Iron Man was his friend. But it all seemed so obvious now, and Steve felt like the world’s biggest fool.

He nodded tightly. “I see.”

Tony’s face twisted with misery. “I never meant to trick you, or to lie to you, Cap. You’re important to the team. You’re important to me. I was trying to protect you.”

Steve felt a lump of irritation rise up in his throat. “I told you before: _I’m_ the supersoldier, so I’m supposed to be the one protecting the team.”

“And I told _you_ before - it’s my job to protect you. And sometimes that means protecting you from me and my messes.”

Steve turned his head, looked Tony full in the face. He felt a surge of angry protectiveness towards him, a desire to keep him safe against anything or anyone who might hurt him.

It was, he slowly realized, the same feeling that Tony had for him.

All the anger rushed out of him and he was left feeling hollow and drained. He slumped over the guardrail at the edge of the roof, looking out over the twinkling lights of nearby buildings.

He could understand a lie of omission to protect a teammate. He’d done his share of omitting key facts during the war, so he knew how that went. But the sheer deviousness required to maintain two identities under the same roof was something else.

The logistics of how Tony had lived two lives seemed almost impossible, and something was nagging at him; a question that demanded an answer. 

“But Tony,” he started, “when do you sleep?”

Tony looked up at that, and let out a strangled huff of a laugh. “I make do.”

Steve stared at him, trying to reassess everything he’d known about these two men - gentle, caring Iron Man and brittle, press-hardened Mr. Stark. One who was all heart, and one who was all brain. Except that wasn’t right; because he had always been both. 

He had always been one extraordinary person.

“I’ll resign from the team,” Tony interrupted his thoughts, seemingly convinced that Steve’s silence was a condemnation of him. “I won’t make it difficult,” he continued, sounding smaller than Steve had ever heard him.

“Tony, no,” Steve said, very fast. He wasn't sure about many things: what this revelation meant for their friendship, and for their romance, whether they’d be able to work together in the field as well as they had before, what they would tell the rest of the team. But the idea of being in the Avengers without Iron Man next to him was unconscionable, and _that_ was something he was very sure of. “If you leave, I leave.”

“No, Cap, hear me out.” Tony was distinctly avoiding looking Steve in the eye. His shame seemed to weight physically on his shoulders, slouched the same way Iron Man did when he was tired. “I don’t deserve to be an Avenger. I deceived you. I took advantage of you and the rest of the team and I’m sorry about that. I know how it goes - Iron Man might be a useful asset, but no one wants Tony Stark around.”

“Was it you?” Steve asked. “In the armor, protecting me and the rest of the Avengers? Was it you who sat up at night, working out strategies with us? Was it you who I could count on to catch me whenever I fell?”

“Um. Yes?”

“Then of course I don’t want you to resign. You’re a part of this team, and you have been since the beginning.”

“You’re not… angry?”

Steve considered for a moment, pushing past his first impulse to wave off the concern. He needed to be honest. “Angry? No. I am disappointed that you felt that you had to keep it from me though. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It was selfish of me, I know.” Tony chewed a nail and still wouldn't look Steve in the eye. “That’s why I told you the truth today.”

Steve conceded that Tony did have a point there. When push had come to shove, Tony had told him. There was another reason that this revelation had hurt so much; a deeper reason for his disquiet. 

“But why didn’t you trust me?” he asked plaintively. “I understand the need for secrecy. But I’m a soldier, I can keep a secret.”

Tony stared at his feet. 

“Because I wanted you to like me,” he admitted, so quietly that Steve could barely hear him. “You're an inspiration to me, Steve. To a lot of us. We may not think like you or act like you – but we still respect you and appreciate what you do, and the way you do it. You're an idealist in a world that is far from ideal. I don't know how you can do it, but I didn't want to ruin that.” 

Steve breathed, let that sink in, considered the weight of Tony’s regard for him and found it mirrored his own feelings for Iron Man.

“And you thought that being honest would stop me from liking you?”

“Um. Yes?” Tony looked perplexed by the question. “You liked Iron Man, but you thought Tony Stark was an obnoxious brat.” Tony held his hand up to stop Steve from replying. “You’re not the first person to think that.”

“And I was clearly wrong, and so were all those other people. You’re not the easiest person to know, Tony -”

Tony slowly titled his head in reluctant agreement.

“- but I wish I had tried harder. I said terrible things to you, but now I’ve seen first hand what sort of man you are, and he’s someone I adore with my whole heart.”

Tony turned to him, eyes wide, hope lighting up his face. 

Steve gave him a lopsided smile. Surely Tony knew how Steve felt about him by now? “I can’t imagine my life, or the Avengers, without you in it.”

“Wait,” Tony said, sounded pained. “Before you decide to keep me on the team, there’s something else you should know.”

Steve’s mind whirred with horrendous possibilities, but he nodded. “Let’s hear it.”

Tony’s eyes flicked away from his face and fixed on a point far to his left. He unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt, pulling aside the fabric to reveal a smooth plane of red metal.

Steve inhaled sharply. He would know that metal anywhere - it looked just like the Iron Man armor.

“I have an old war wound,” Tony explained, voice tight. “This chestplate keeps shrapnel from entering my heart. I need to wear it all the time, or my heart could give out. The chestplate powers the armor too.”

A horrifying series of images flashed rapidly through Steve’s head as he considered what the war wound could entail. Tony injured, Tony hurt with no one to look after him, Tony suffering alone. He decided that whatever issues remained unresolved between them, he would make sure that Tony was never hurt and alone again.

He found himself reaching out towards the smooth metal, but he knew Tony well enough not to touch him without his permission. “May I?” he asked.

Tony gave a nervous shrug. “Sure, if you like. If it’s not too off-putting.” His lips twisted unhappily.

Steve ghosted his hand across the metal, feeling the faint hum of electricity beneath his fingers. This tangible connection between Tony and Iron Man made Steve reconsider his understanding of Iron Man as the hero and Tony as the mask. They were one and the same, each unsustainable without the other.

Tony seemed uncomfortable with the silence. “It’s… it’s not unsafe. But the plate might fail. I could die. In the middle of a mission, if I get exposed to an EMP blast, if something goes wrong… I’m not reliable.”

Steve remembered the conversation he’d had with Tony before, in his workshop. He remembered how Tony had snapped at him that Iron Man wasn’t trustworthy, wasn’t reliable. At the time, Steve had thought he’d been insulting his friend. But the reality that this was what Tony really thought of himself was devastating.

He looked at Tony, the way his lips were pursed and his shoulders were hunched. Steve realized that he didn’t care about the dangers, or the risks, or their mission. Right now, all he wanted was to keep his friend safe. “Does it hurt?” he asked.

Tony’s eyes went wide, like he hadn’t imagined anyone would ever ask him that. “Only a little,” he said, quietly enough that Steve knew that he meant yes.

Steve reached up and lifted Tony’s chin until their eyes met. Looking at him, it was suddenly so obvious: the clear blue eyes he’d seen through the faceplate so many times, the warmth and recognition he’d felt long before he’d had any idea who Iron Man was underneath the armor. 

Everything snapped into crystal clear focus.

“I want to be with you,” Steve said simply. “Every facet of you, every part of you. I don’t want to see just the parts that you think are acceptable for others. I want to know all of you.” He had been on a roll, expressing things he had kept to himself for far too long, but he was hit by a sudden wave of uncertainty. “If that’s… if that’s something you’d want.”

Tony beamed at him. “Of course I want that.” He hesitated and his face dropped. Steve could see that he was torn between desperate relief and niggling uncertainty. “But, Steve, you deserve someone worthy of you. And that’s not me. We both know that you thought I was awful at first.”

“Hey now,” Steve said firmly. “That’s my fella you’re talking bad about.” Tony ducked his head, his cheeks glowing. 

“We didn’t get on when we first met, that’s true,” he continued. “But I only ever disliked how you talked down about Iron Man, how hard you were about him. You should be kinder to yourself, Tony.”

He reached out to hold Tony’s hand, remembering all the times that strong metal fingers had caught him as he flew. “You deserve good things too,” he said quietly.

Steve took his hand and threaded his fingers through the soft curls at the nape of Tony’s neck. Tony sighed and practically melted into his touch, and Steve felt his heart melt too. Tony had better never find out that all it took was a quiet sigh and this warm, relaxed look on his face, for Steve to do anything for him, forgive anything.

Steve kissed him, and it was just like the first time. Here, on this roof, the city spread before them, Tony’s lips soft against his and the scratch of facial hair tickling his lips. Steve felt his doubts melting away. 

Tony pulled away for a moment, uncertain. “Steve,” he said, taken aback and eyes wide. “You’re not under any obligation to me. I don’t mean to pressure you into something you don’t want.”

“You’re exactly what I want,” Steve said with certainty. “And you always were. Even when I didn’t know it.”

Tony’s smile was like the sun bursting from between the clouds, lighting up his whole face and so utterly different from the carefully composed press smile that he had seen before. Steve resolved that he would do whatever it took to see that smile, that real Tony smile, more often.

Steve took Tony’s hand and lead him off the roof, marveling at the feeling of slender, delicate fingers intertwined with his own. Tony let himself be led back into the warmth of the mansion and Steve tried to hide his dopey blush when he felt Tony squeeze his hand.

***

Steve had lead them to his room, intending to talk further in private. 

There was still so much to discuss between them. And yet the moment the door closed behind them, Tony looked so fidgety and unsure that Steve decided that the details could wait. Right now, all he wanted was to do whatever it took to make sure Tony knew how much he was wanted.

Tony gasped when Steve took hold of his face in both hands and kissed him, determined to make his actions say the words he was struggling with. Steve was soft and tender at first, but quickly Tony's lips parted beneath his and the kiss turned hot and desperate. Tony grabbed ahold of Steve's biceps and held on hard enough that it would have bruised anyone else, as if fearing that Steve might disappear at any minute.

When Steve pushed Tony back against the nearest wall and held him in place by his shoulders, Tony moaned aloud and arched up against him.

Steve ran his fingers over every inch, every muscle, every tantalizing patch of skin that he'd dreamed about, wondering what it would be like to feel his Iron Man in his arms. Now, finally, they were here together.

Tony was so responsive beneath his hands, each thumb rubbed across a pulse point was rewarded with a hearty groan, each featherlight touch of fingertips making Tony twitch and shudder. But his eyes were scrunched shut, and he turned his face away from Steve as he panted.

"Hey, Shellhead," Steve gently angled his head back. "You with me?"

Tony nibbled his lips, the expression of uncertainty so unexpected on his usually confident countenance. Steve only smiled, burying his head into the crook of Tony's neck and breathing in the spicy scent of his cologne, with an undercurrent of sharp metal. Tony held on tighter, his fingers wrapping desperately around Steve's biceps and his fingernails digging sharp points into Steve's skin.

"Can I touch you?" Tony asked, breathlessly.

Steve thought that it was a bit late for that question, and stifled a giggle. He leaned back to look at Tony’s face. "You can do whatever you want with me, Shellhead," he murmured.

Tony's eyes went dark and his breathing heavy as he looked Steve up and down before pouncing on him, fingers and lips exploring his body and trying to touch everywhere at once. Steve let himself be maneuvered over to the bed, letting out a laugh as Tony pushed him back against the sheets.

Tony crawled on top of him and kissed his neck, nibbling down the cord of muscle towards his shoulder. Tony's hands were rubbing his sides and his weight was pressing Steve down into the bed, and when Tony slid a leg between his thighs, Steve gasped and rocked up against the friction.

This felt… obvious, somehow. The heat from the mystery of Iron Man was still there, but it was tempered by an understanding: ahh, this is _Tony_. The businessman and the hero - the man who somehow managed to be both.

It was familiar, and yet new. Every touch was both a comfort and a revelation. They quickly shucked their clothes, Steve removing Tony's fancy shirt with such haste that he was sure he heard a button pinging off across the floor.

When he was stripped of his undershirt too, Tony glanced down at the chestplate with a twist of his lips. 

"Sorry if it's… off-putting," he mumbled.

But Steve ran his hand reverently over the shiny red metal, this visceral symbol of both Tony the inventor and Iron Man the hero. 

"It keeps you safe, and it lets you help other people," he said, trying to make Tony understand. "So it's beautiful to me. You're beautiful."

Something that looked a lot like hope flickered in Tony's eyes. Steve carefully removed the rest of his clothes, grazing his hands across the smooth plane of the metal as he did. The contrast of Tony's warm skin and the cool of the metal heightened each sensation of touch wherever their bodies met.

Steve scrambled to rid himself of his clothes until they were both finally, gloriously naked together; no secrets and no masks keeping them separate. Steve kissed up and down Tony's neck, up each arm, across the broad metal of the chestplate. When he flicked out his tongue to lave down the space between the broad metal pecs, he heard Tony's breath catch in his throat.

"I'm going to make you feel so good," he promised, tracing fingers up the sensitive skin of Tony's thighs. "I'm going to make you feel as good as you made me feel."

Finally, Steve couldn't resist any more and he took Tony's aching cock in his hand. A few gentle strokes and Tony was already panting against him, breath hot and wet against his neck. Steve shuffled himself until he was above Tony, weight resting on one hand while the other teased Tony with gentle strokes.

Tony's eyes were wide and he writhed up against Steve, hands scrabbling against his back as he tried to find something to hang on to. Steve petted him and moved closer, lining up his straining cock until he could wrap one big hand around both of them.

The feeling of Tony's cock pressed up against his; the warmth and the pressure and the sweet friction of skin on skin was almost too much, and Steve swallowed back a deep groan of desire. He found himself flopping forward onto Tony, unable to brace himself while distracted by the smooth slide of their cocks moving together.

As always, Tony was right there when Steve needed him.

"It's okay," he soothed, batting Steve's hand away and taking their two cocks in his slender fingers. "I've got you, big guy. Let me help."

Steve braced himself above Tony, clinging on to the slats of the headboard and letting their hips move together in luxurious rolls. Tony's fingers danced over his sensitive skin, wrapping around the head of his cock to stroke him into a dizzying high.

All Steve could do was hang on and ride the waves of sensation that sparkled out over his skin wherever Tony touched him. The feeling of pleasure and comfort and a need finally sated settled deep inside him.

"Oh, Iron Man," Steve breathed, then stopped short in embarrassment when he realized what he had said. "Uhh, sorry," he recovered quickly. "Do you mind if I call you that?"

Tony beamed at him. "I don't mind at all." He dropped his eyes and even blushed a bit. "Actually, I like it."

Steve lifted his chin and kissed him again, letting their bodies roll together once more, settling back into their easy rhythm.

"My Iron Man," he sighed happily, and Tony glowed.

Steve threaded his fingers into Tony's free hand, clinging as Tony flicked the thumb of his other hand over the head of his dick. Looking down, Steve could see their cocks pressed together, sliding between the tight ring of Tony's hand like one flesh. They were made to be that way, Steve thought, made to be together.

He lost himself in their gentle slide, the smell of Tony hanging in the air around him and the feeling of Tony's body so close to his own. When Tony bent forward to sink his teeth into the muscle of Steve's shoulder, the sharp points of pain formed a delicious counterpoint to the warm slick of their bodies.

"Tony… oh Iron Man… I'm close," he huffed out, dizzy and close to overwhelmed.

Tony held onto him even tighter. "My Winghead," he breathed, petting Steve's back. "Let go for me. Let me see you come."

Steve felt his muscles clenching, his hands tightening around the headboard with a creak. For a single moment the world around him stilled and he felt himself floating, just him and Tony together as everything receded from around them.

Then he was coming, the air heaving from his lungs and his hips jerking and twitching as he spilled over their joined hands. He felt light-headed, buoyant as waves of pleasure and relief washed through him.

He felt Tony stiffen beneath him, the slick of his come spreading between their bellies and running down their still joined cocks. Tony squeezed his eyes shut and pumped once, twice, three times and then came with a soft sigh, his come mingling with Steve's in the slick mess between them.

Steve smiled softly, bending forward to catch Tony's lips in a gentle kiss. He rolled over and pulled Tony on top of him, cuddling him close and breathing in his warm, spicy scent.

***

Steve floated gradually into consciousness the next morning, becoming aware of a feeling of warmth, comfort, and a slight ache that indicated a night well spent. 

For a moment as he awoke he kept his eyes closed, wondering if he could let sleep drag him under for a little longer. He felt a sinking certainty that he'd open his eyes to find himself alone, again.

A snuffling, gentle snoring grabbed his attention, and he rolled over into the solid weight of Tony. 

Tony, here, in his bed. 

His hair was wildly mussed and he was drooling slightly onto the pillow, and Steve had never seen anything so beautiful. He brushed the hair from Tony's face and Tony hummed contentedly. "Morning, gorgeous."

"Morning yourself," Tony mumbled, blinking into wakefulness with a soft smile.

Steve checked the clock on the bedside. "I suppose we ought to get up," he said, trying for firm but ending up sounding hopelessly indulgent. "We really should be starting the day."

"Exactly," Tony agreed dozily. "We're starting the day with the vital activity of staying in bed. Perfect." 

Then he threw an arm over Steve's chest, pinning him to the mattress. Well then. That decided it: they were definitely staying in bed.

Steve wrapped himself around the warmth of Tony with a contented sigh. He couldn't help but wonder if this would be what life was like for them now - spending the night, waking up together, geez, they might even go on a _date_. Was that how they were going to be? Should they tell the rest of the team? What would happen when they found out?

"I can hear you thinking," Tony said into the pillow, his voice sounding like he was still teetering on the edge of sleep. "Whatever it is, we can talk about it later. We've got all the time in the world. Sleep now."

All the time in the world. That sounded pretty swell.

Steve curled up even closer to Tony and drifted happily back to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed the fic. There's a tumblr post [here](http://cptxrogers.tumblr.com/post/180526575054/big-bang-a-problem-of-identity) if you'd like to share it.


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